Generation X
by Sorcery Sisters
Summary: Join Harry and friends for their sixth year at Hogwarts in what promises to be a wild ride of sex, shower rooms, pantomimes, footsie, cheerleading, bitchfighting and more... and in Part Six, prepare for Quidditch like it's never been played before!
1. Term Begins

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Generation X – Autumn Term

Part One – Term Begins

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**Author's Note**: Aurora and Drosera here. Hello and welcome to our thoroughly fun and fabricated year at Hogwarts! This long Author's Note is here because we feel that this fictionneeds a little explanation if it is to be properly understood. Generation X' takes place over an entire year at Hogwarts, and is separated into the Autumn, Spring and Summer terms as happens in the books. However, this is pretty much where the similarity ends. 

Note: Harry and friends are in their sixth year, but the entirety of last year's seventh year (Fred, George, Lee et al) are still inexplicably present at Hogwarts. Do not ask us why; to avoid ickyness we had to make sure everyone was above the age of consent, and the only way we could do this was to bend the rules considerably. Also, if we _did _get rid of their year, we would lose some of the best characters. This fic was written and was always intended to be **fun. **It was with this in mind that we made this decision. This fiction is not to be taken seriously in any way at all. It was hugely entertaining to write and we hope this is reflected in the fact that it is enjoyable to read. 

Warning: This fiction has been rated PG-13 for language, situations and mild sexual content. We take no responsibility for anything included in this fic. If you find strong language, mild sexual situations or any other content mentioned offensive then we suggest that you do not read this fiction and hit the back button now. For all the others of you, please read on! 

Everybody is purposely a little out of character. For example in this fiction you will see a great deal of Slut!Hermione, (yes, see a lot of' in both senses) Bitch!Pansy, Naïve!Harry and DodgyCockneyGeezer!Lee, as well as many more. 

Disclaimer: We disclaim all quotes we stole; these came from various sources which include but are not limited to Buffy, Red Dwarf, Maid Marian and her Merry Men, American Pie and Cruel Intentions. We also do not own any of JKR's characters. The only ones we own will appear later on in the Generation X Year. 

For the moment, here is the entirety of the Autumn Term, divided into three chapters. The rest of the year should be appearing here soon. Please, please, PLEASE R/R this fiction! We can't tell you how much your comments mean to us. And as the remainder of this fic is still under construction, any ideas/suggestions you make can still be incorporated. 

Okay, enough of this! Let's go! 

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Harry stood on the platform with his trunk, glaring at Hermione. He _really _didn't understand how her mind worked. He didn't even know she _liked _Justin Finch-Fletchley, and now here she was..._euurrgh! _He didn't even want to look. He was glad when Ron came over, dragging a battered suitcase and grinning. He punched Harry on the shoulder in a friendly way, and Harry returned the gesture, trying hard not to show how much his arm was hurting. 

"Harry, my man! Did you have a goOD suMMer of LUUrrrve?" Ron's voice was strangled and threatening to crack when it suddenly veered into a deep baritone. Harry was a little taken aback. He hadn't considered the prospect of his own voice breaking, and the Dursleys weren't exactly likely to give him 'the talk' anytime soon. Not that he minded; the idea of Vernon... well, it wasn't a pretty picture.

"Er...no," he replied to Ron's question. He didn't get much chance for that down at Little Whinging. Most of the time he wasn't even allowed out of the house. 

"How's the action down at Ottery St. Catchpole, then?" 

"It was flippin'!" was Ron's cryptic response. Harry took this to mean it had been good, which was lucky for Ron. Harry couldn't help feeling a little annoyed that he hadn't 'got some' first. Obviously being 'the boy who lived' didn't automatically qualify you to be 'the boy who scored.'

Hermione chose that moment to saunter over, balancing carefully on her platforms. A still-salivating Justin sloped off to board the train.

"So, boys. How, like, are you? I'm great! My holiday in America was, like, sooooo cool. I met some _awesome _people. But enough about me. How's it hanging?" 

Without giving them a chance to answer, she pulled them both into a tight hug, causing several of the boys around them to groan with jealousy. Harry patted her cautiously on the back and pulled away. 

"You sound... different. What happened to your voice?"

Hermione looked at him in a condescending manner. 

"What's with the attitude, Harry? Lighten up, won't you?" She tossed her hair over her shoulder and straightened her extremely short skirt. 

"So," Ron said, "new boyfriend, Hermione?" Hermione giggled, and shook her head.

"Who, Justin? No way! He's, like, _soooo _boring. I mean, yawn!" 

Harry was a little surprised. She hadn't seemed so 'bored' by the book-loving Hufflepuff earlier. But he wasn't going to try and fathom Hermione's reasoning. 

He didn't understand that girl anymore. One minute she was all over him, and the next she was flirting with every boy within a three mile radius. _Slag, _Harry thought bitterly.

Harry had really fancied her for ages now, and hadn't tried too hard to hide it. But she'd never given him any serious indication that she felt the same way.

While he had lapsed into reverie, Hermione had turned her attention to Ron. Ron was also keen to get it together with Hermione, but Harry didn't really think his friend was in with much of a chance. 

Ron was lapping the attention up. Of course, the 16 year old Hermione was a far cry from her bushy-haired innocent look of five years ago. Her once mousy hair was now a rich chestnut and had lost its bushiness, cascading down her back in soft waves. Her eyes, large and deep brown, were always perfectly outlined with eyeshadow, eyeliner and mascara. Her lips were always covered in some sort of gloss or lipstick. And her figure slim and very attractive, she caught attention wherever she went. 

They boarded the train. Hermione disappeared instantly into a crowd of seventh year boys. Further down the train, Ron spotted a spare two seats where they could sit. But before they could get there, Harry saw the possiblility for a much more advantageous seating arrangement. Cho Chang was sitting alone (for once) in a compartment, reading a magazine. Smoothing his hair, he pushed open the door and walked in. 

Through the glass, Ron saw Cho smile and indicate that Harry should sit next to her. Scowling, he went in search of somewhere else to spend the journey. Unfortunately by this time the only empty seat was in a compartment with his sister Ginny and her fifth-year friends. He spent the entirety of the journey sulking in a corner while the troupe of girls whispered, giggled and pointed at him and his apparent lack of friends. Just his luck.

Harry settled into his seat next to Cho. Maybe he'd get some action with her now... he had heard some of the boys in the locker room talking about how easy she was.

"Harry! Did you have a good holiday? How's Sirius? Did you get my letter?"

Harry smiled. _I'm in!_ His emerald green eyes caught her sparkling blue ones and they laughed. Somehow, he found himself wanting to shag Hermione less 

Harry had never had the courage to ask Cho out since last year, when he had foolishly asked her to the Yule Ball. He felt himself blushing at the memory of how he'd stumbled over his words. 

But it wouldn't happen again. He was much more suave, more sophisticated now. Perhaps he could try... well, it always worked in the films. Affecting a yawn, he lifted his arms above his head and tentatively brought one down to rest around her shoulder. 

"Oh, Harry! How sweet!" Cho cooed, leaning her head on his arm. Harry allowed himself a self satisfied grin. She was hot for him, that was for sure. He looked down at her. Her hair, jet-black like his own, framed her face, accentuating her pretty features. Her eyes were closed as she leaned against him, and her lashes were fluttering slightly, like butterfly wings. _Wow, that sounds quite poetic, _Harry thought. Perhaps he could impress her with a compliment. 

"Er, Cho?" He began.

"Yes, Harry?" She opened her eyes to look at him, and he was struck again by the startling blue of their colour, like icy pools. He was about to tell her this, but halfway between his brain and his mouth, something went awry.

"You've got well big knockers!" he blurted out. 

"HARRY! You uncouth, male chauvinist pig! But thanks. You're cute, y'know?"

Well, that went better than I could have expected, he reasoned. And leaning down to her, he began to kiss her. 

After three solid hours, Harry extricated himself from where he was lying in the luggage rack. His broomstick was digging into his back and he was very uncomfortable. Next to him, Cho was lying, her hair ruffled and her robes half-off. 

"Are you sure you want to be doing this?" He asked her. Truth be told, he wasn't sure himself.

"Well it's not like you'd be my first I don't mind. It's up to you."

Harry's mind started working again. _She wasn't a virgin! He should have expected it after all, she was a year older than him but still it put him on the spot, didn't it? He'd never done it before, and, while the prospect of boasting to Ron was extremely attractive, he didn't feel ready. Not yet. The time was not right. And anyway, what if she insulted the size of his..._

CRASH!

At that minute, the door of the compartment burst open, and who should come in but Draco Malfoy, for once without Crabbe and Goyle. Instead in tow he had Pansy Parkinson, an extremely pretty girl with a long, straight sheet of blonde hair and a tiny, upturned nose. Draco dropped Pansy's hand as soon as he saw Harry and the semi-clothed Cho Chang. 

"Well, well, well, Potter. I see you've finally removed the shrink wrap from your dick and started to fucking use it!" He smirked nastily, a la Stiffler. 

"Dwaco, Dwaco!" Pansy's petulant voice seemed to penetrate Draco's very skull. She contorted her features so that the arrogant smirk on her face mirrored his own. The difference was that he made it look _good. _"Let's find another compartment. They're SICK!"

"It's alright, Pansy," He drawled, surveying the scene before him in distaste. "I've no wish to witness this. I've already had to watch _American Pie _forty-seven times in a row because of your _penchant _for teenage sex. Don't you get enough of that already?" He finished, with a smug and obvious look in Harry's direction. 

"Yeah, that's right, Potter. Looks like you're going to be the only one at Hogwarts who's still only on first base!" Was it just Harry, or did he have a trace of an American accent when he said that? Harry blushed and quickly covered himself up. While he knew that what Malfoy was saying wasn't true (who'd ever sleep with Neville? For that matter, who'd ever even _kiss _Neville?) his words stung. Harry was very sensitive about the fact that he was still a virgin. Ron was too, but then for him there was always Ginny to take advantage of should he be so inclined not that Ron ever would be. Shuddering slightly at the thought of what a whole new family of inbred Weasleys would be like, he hopped down from the luggage rack and tried to look menacing. 

"Are you here for any particular reason, or do you just get thrills from seeing a semi-naked chick?" 

"Calm down, Potter. Me and Pansy here just wanted some _privacy._ We'll ah leave you two to it, shall we? Oh, and you'd better make it quick – the train arrives at Hogsmeade in twenty minutes." With that, the two of them left. Through the door, Harry could see Pansy shove Draco against the wall and start to well, let's just say they didn't seem particularly concerned with privacy _now. _Behind him, Cho was pulling on her robes again, and running a comb through her straight hair until it was immaculate once more. She shouldered her small bag and flashed Harry a devious smile. 

"Maybe next time, eh Harry?" And she was gone. Harry flopped back onto the seat and sighed happily. _I think she likes me!_

Hermione woke up feeling fabulous. It was her birthday. She was seventeen! Today, the world was hers. She leapt out of bed and pranced over to the dressing table where she always began her beauty routine. After she had pulled on her new denim miniskirt and designer _Gladrags: America _T-shirt, she sat down and began to apply yet another coat of Perfect Purple Passion nail paint. Then she doused her face with warm water and ran her hand over her skin, expecting to feel her usually peachy-soft, clear complexion. But instead, she was met with a rough, bobbly texture. She yelled out in shock, dashing over to the nearest mirror. What she saw made her pass out. After she came round again, she was filled with disgust at the horrific sight which looked back at her. It was disgusting hideous a terrible sight to behold. NO. IT WAS NOT PERCY WITHOUT A TOWEL AFTER A SHOWER. Hermione shuddered at the memory. 

IT WAS HER **FACE**.

Ugly red pustules covered her previously angelic features, making her almost unrecognisable. Lee would NEVER want to take her out now. Sinking onto her bed, feeling faint and dizzy once more, she dissolved into noisy, American, Sweet-Valley style tears of rage and disbelief. 

Ron banged on the door of Hermione's dormitory, worry clouding his face. He called out to her.

"HerMIOne!" He clutched his throat as his voice rose in a strangled squeak. He doubted whether she'd heard him anyway; her sobs had escalated into almost hysterical shrieks. Abandoning his morals, he burst through the door. 

Four hours later, they emerged. Hermione had been persuaded to face the world, but only after exchanging her scanty ensemble for an Arabian style pashmina that covered everything but her eyes and her left buttock. (Ron thought it would be entertaining to remove this section while she was fitting her Yashmak.) He wondered what Parvati would say when she found he had decimated her favourite robes. They entered the common room to appreciative cheers and whistles. Ron thought that this was because of the alteration he had made to Hermione's outfit. Hermione thought it was because of her new look'. She was sure she looked stunning in her new Asian Babe' clothes. In fact it was because well, what would YOU have thought they'd spent four hours alone doing?

Harry looked down. His wand was ready with an engorgement charm, poised in position... _But_ s_hould he do it? He could really impress Cho... and he wouldn't feel so inadequate anymore. Yes, he was definitely going to go for it. _He knew it could be dangerous he would have asked Hermione to do it for him, but, wellHis thoughts were interrupted as Ron crashed in. His wand jerked two feet downwards and purple sparks shot out of it. He watched, horrified, as his foot swelled to many times its normal size. Phew. He was glad the charm had missed his target'. Ron stared. 

"Cor! Nice, er _foot_ you've got there!" Giving him a knowing nudge and a roguish wink, he continued mischievously,

"What made you do that, eh? What were you _trying_ to do?"

"Well, y'know just messing about with my wand I mean" He gave up, as Ron chuckled dirtily. 

"Go get em, tiger!"

Harry would never have believed how inconvenient a 6 – foot foot could be. He was trailing along on his way to Herbology, taking the long way round so that he could avoid the staircase. He was just passing the laundry room when something very strange happened. He saw Draco Malfoy cross the hall, carrying a bundle of sheets in his arms. He was extremely pink in the face, and went even more so when he spotted Harry. Harry tried and failed to hide his grotesque foot. _What would Malfoy say?_ But for once, Draco didn't seem to have anything to say. Harry wondered what Draco was doing, in the laundry room of all places. But Harry wasn't like the other boys. He hadn't started to_develop _yet. Could it be something to do with _**PUBERTY?!?**_

"You do it!"

"No, YOU do it!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you two, I'll do it." Dean interrupted Harry and Seamus, who were having a whispered argument. Dean strode over to where Ron was sitting.

"Er, Ron?"

"YeAH?"

"I er-" Dean sniggered momentarily. "Ron, you stink!"

"WHAT?!?"

"We – Harry, Seamus and myself – we reckon you've got BO."

"No WAY! I smell divine! Like roses, my mum said!"

"Dude, you smell like a Yeti!"

"I can't help it if my Oestrogen levels are fluctuating!"

"What yer fuckin' on about? Yeh've been readin' too much _Witch's Own_!"

"Shurrup!" Ron yelped, blushing. 

"Anyway, we bought you some _Mr. Skower's Magical BO Remover _from the One Knut Shop in Hogsmeade."

Ron took it, still looking highly offended. After a moment, Dean prompted him.

"Well, piss off then! Go and try it out!"

Ron stormed off. Harry listened guiltily as he heard his best friend stamping up the stairs.

Hermione locked the door to her dormitory with a click. Returning to her desk, she ran her finger down the open page of a book until she found what she was looking for; an Acne Removing hex. But she was no Eloise Midgeon. This would be a success. She held a mirror in front of her face and muttered something. Touching her wand to a particularly large boil on her chin, she noticed with satisfaction that it disappeared the instant she prodded it. She continued in this way for about an hour until her face was clear once more. Smiling for what seemed like the first time in weeks, she dug around in her bulging make-up case until she unearthed her lip-gloss. She had a hot date tonight, with Lee. After discovering what Ron had done to her robes, she was out for revenge. And boy, would it be sweet. She hadn't told anyone about this yet, because she knew what they'd say.

Oh, remember what happened last time' He's too old for you' or _He's only using you!' _She didn't care. She _liked _Lee. She _hated _Angelina Johnson, and this was the perfect chance to get revenge on that stuck up bitch as well as make Ron incredibly jealous. She pulled her hair into an elaborate knot and slipped into her new purple minidress. Buckling her diamante sandals, she spritzed herself with perfume and sauntered down the stairs to where Lee stood waiting for her. He looked great in a tuxedo with his hair magically relaxed from its usual dreadlocks and slicked behind his ears. She flashed him a million-dollar smile and took his arm. They had waited until everyone was in the Great Hall before sneaking out a side door and onto the lawns. 

"So, uh, Lee, like, where's the car?"

"Car? We're walking, ain't we?"

"That is so, like, lame! And I'd like to see you walk all the way to Hogsmeade with these heels!" She finished irritably, forgetting momentarily to put on her American sweet-valley-style accent. 

Lee's eyes went all sparkly and he said cheekily, "Then I'll have to carry you, darling!" 

"Oh, Lee! That is, like, soooooo romantic!" 

He scooped her up in his manly arms and she giggled coquettishly. He managed about four steps before dropping her very _un_romantically in a muddy puddle. 

"Lee, you incompetent!" 

"Oh, crap! Sorry!"

"Can't we go by broomstick? It'll be sooooo cool, and I can, like, hold you by the waist!" Leaving Lee with this tempting offer, she sprinted back up to the castle, where she hastily exchanged her soiled purple dress for a skimpy backless black affair that had a sexy slit up the side. _That ought to do it_, Hermione thought. _Now he'll **have** to sleep with me!_

Harry pulled off his sweat-drenched Quidditch robes and dived into the cool waters of the shower. Neville's eyes followed him for a moment before he stepped out of the shadows and cleared his throat. 

"Er, Harry?"

"What? Who's there?" Harry called out, scandalised.

"It's me Neville."

"What are you, GAY or something?"

"YES! I AM GAY!" Neville broke down into noisy sobs.

"Oh, don't be like that, Nev! It's perfectly normal to question your sexuality!" He'd read that in a magazine once, and it seemed like the right thing to say. 

"Oh, thanks Harry! I just had to tell someone. I feel so lonely and confused!"

Remembering a useful if not entirely true anecdote, Harry continued.

"Dudley thought he was gay once. So I said, put your dick back on, you sad wanker' and he did. Problem solved, eh, Nev?"

Neville's tears reached a crescendo at Harry 's homophobic outlook on the situation, and Harry was forced to block his ears. For a moment, he thought about comforting him, but he didn't want to give Neville any ideas. 

"Is it serious, Nev?"

"I've started-" Neville broke off for a moment to choke back another sob "-fancying other boys! What can I do? I know they don't like me in that way!" 

Feeling rather uncomfortable about this, Harry coughed and said,

"Which, er boys would these be, Neville?"

"I can't tell you, Harry. I just can't!"

"Well, don't worry about it, Neville! I'm sure everything'll work out in the end. Haha." 

He forced what he hoped was a reassuring laugh. Still very disturbed by the whole affair, he finished drying himself and pulled on his black school robes before striding through the changing-room doors. Neville watched him leave, a strange smile on his pudgy face.

Hermione took another sip from her near empty wine glass, keeping her eyes fixed on Lee. 

"I need a fill-up," she said, her voice slightly slurred. Lee reached over a little unsteadily and poured the last of the red liquid from the expensive green bottle into her crystal glass. He spilt a little on the table cloth.

"Oops!" he said rather loudly, causing several couples at nearby tables to incline their heads in his direction. Hermione trailed her carefully manicured finger through the spilt wine and pressed her digit to Lee's lips. 

"Sssh," she whispered huskily. He licked her finger hungrily. Hermione giggled again. 

"Can we, um, like, find somewhere a little more private?" She glanced around the ritzy restaurant where they had chosen to eat. A quartet were playing classical music quietly and the large, richly decorated room was humming with the sound of conversation. The light was fairly low and came from the huge crystal chandeliers hanging from the dim ceiling. The atmosphere was very romantic, but not altogether appropriate for the evening she had planned. 

"Sure. We'll leave in a minute. Just let me have one more one more little drink" Lee was clearly more drunk than she was, and she didn't want it to get any worse. She took his hand rather forcefully and half-dragged him onto the dance floor. They began a clumsy waltz, and Hermione had to try hard not to scream at Lee after he stepped on her toe for what seemed like the hundredth time. However, it had done the job and he seemed a lot more sober and a lot less resistant to her charms than he had been earlier in the evening once the dance was finished. He had only really opened up to her once they were on their second bottle of house wine. It was very pricey – Hermione was glad they were using Lee's dad's credit card. Smiling a little guiltily to herself, she pressed herself closer to him and said close to his ear,

"Let's get out of here." 

He nodded quickly and they almost ran out of the restaurant, stopping only to pay the bill. Hermione slipped the receipt into her pocket. She'd give it to Lee tomorrow. They stepped out into the night. A chill wind was blowing and Hermione gave an involuntary shiver. Lee slipped his arm around her shoulders and they walked together over to where his Nimbus 2001 was padlocked to the broom-rack. Lee climbed on and Hermione sidled on behind him. She held onto him tightly, running her fingers sensually over his muscly chest. They took off, the wind whipping Hermione's carefully coifed hair so that it all fell down, blowing around her face wildly. She revelled in the sensation of being so close to him She felt a twinge of jealousy when she thought of Angelina, the only other girl in the school who could really compete with her in the looks stakes. Oh, well. She'd get her own back on that goody-two-shoes. 

"I had a great night tonight, Hermione," Lee said. And she was sure he meant it. She really knew how to turn boys on. 

"It's not over yet, honey," she purred. Lee turned around to look at her.

"What do you mean?" he asked. _Well, duh! _Hermione thought in irritation. _How stupid can you get? Oh, well. I'll just have to make myself a little more obvious. _She reached up to her new diamond earrings, pretending to feel them as though checking they were still in her ears. 

"Oh, NO!" She wailed, filling her voice with false alarm. "My earring! Could it have gone over the side?" She leaned down, as though she was looking for it on the ground far below them, giving Lee a clear view of her ample cleavage. He stared. Hidden by her long hair, Hermione grinned. She sat up again, trying hard to hide her smile. After regaining his composure, Lee managed to re-employ the power of speech.

"Oh, dear," Lee said, sounding genuinely worried. "Was it very valuable?" Hermione ran a hand absently through her tousled hair, unintentionally exposing her ears, and the two glittering gems she was wearing in them.

"Hang on, Herm. They're both still there!" He said, sounding happy for her. _Honestly, how slow was he? _

"Oh, yeah! How, like, silly of me!" She grinned broadly at him. 

"Thanks for being so concerned, though. You're really sweet." She leaned forward and kissed him. He let go of the broom to wrap his arms around her. She could smell his aftershave surely he couldn't ignore a hint this broad? She pulled him closer, calling up all her feminine charms. He broke away from her for a moment, understanding finally dawning in his eyes.

"Your dorm or mine?" He asked, the hint of a smile playing about his lips. Hermione felt a twinge of annoyance at the slightly patronising tone in his voice. It wasn't like she'd never done this before. But she was about to get what she wantedshe didn't answer his question. She just kissed him again. 

Hermione woke the next morning to the sound of violent vomiting. Blinking as she made herself accustomed to the bright early light, she sat up, momentarily disoriented. Through a haze of alcoholic after-effects, she began to recollect the previous night. Boy, was she glad they'd used Lee's dorm. It had definitely been worth it. The look on Angelina's face when she walked in on them she'd never forget it. Hopefully it would be all round the school by breakfast time. She couldn't wait to speak to Ron. But for the moment there were slightly more immediate things to deal with. 

"Who is that?" she called. "Are you OK?" She got no answer. She hopped out of bed and stepped into her pink fluffy slippers. Padding blearily across the dorm to the small ensuite bathroom, she knocked lightly on the door. "I said, are you OK?" The violent retching stopped for a moment and she heard Parvati reply, sounding weak and drained. "I'm alright, Hermione. Really." Another bout of disgusting noises ensued. When Hermione felt it was safe, she pushed open the door. Parvati's usually dark face was pale and she was crouched over the toilet, shivering. "I guess I wasn't the only one who had a bit too much to drink last night, eh?" Hermione enquired, unable to keep a hint of mischief out of her voice. She never had really liked Parvati much but she couldn't help feeling a little sorry for the girl. She looked and sounded pretty bad. 

"Yeah yeah, that was it," Parvati managed. However, she didn't quite look at Hermione when she said that. Not that Hermione noticed; she was already swanning over to her dressing table to start repairing the damage her complexion had suffered from not taking off last night's make-up, and practise her scandalised' expression. She would need it when dismissing the rumours she had been spreading about herself. 

__

End of Part One

A/N: Please R/R! And then, on you go to Part Two. Enjoy! ^_~ Aurora and Drosera. 


	2. Rehearsals, Religion and Risque Table Ma...

**Generation X - Autumn Term**

Part Two

(29th October- 20th December)

McGonagall tacked up the last of the posters she was holding and stepped back to admire her work. Smiling in a satisfied sort of way she set off down the corridor. This year, she vowed, the Hogwarts Christmas Pantomime _would _be a success. 

The Hogwarts Amateur Dramatics Society

are proud to present

CINDERELLA

A Pantomime with Song, Dance and Fun for all!

Auditions held on 2nd November at 4:00 in the Great Hall. Only 6th Years need apply.

***

The Great Hall buzzed with the sound of excited chatter as most of the 6th year gathered for the Pantomime auditions. Hermione nervously re-adjusted her extremely tight-fitting ball-gown and took off one of her authentic glass slippers to massage her aching foot. They really were tight... but, she reminded herself, beauty knows no pain. She saw Ron throwing a few admiring glances in her direction, but chose to ignore him. He didn't look particularly dashing in his tight P.E shorts and a baggy T-shirt that read something like, 'Ali G - innit!' Hermione did not try and fathom what that meant. Probably something vulgar.

Hermione jumped when she heard the loud voice of Professor McGonagall calling for silence. Her teacher took out a long list of names and called 'Abbot, Hannah' to the stage. Hermione tried in vain to conceal a catty smile as the portly 15- stone Hufflepuff shuffled onto the stage. Her smile turned into a raucous laugh when the idiotic girl proceeded to mumble her lines before popping out of her dress and falling into the Orchestra Pit. What sounded like a very painful collision with a drum-kit ensued. When the clanging and laughter died down, McGonagall cleared her throat and began to call up all the others from the list. There were a few lacklustre performances by hopeful Prince Charmings, a couple of ridiculously ugly Cinderellas and some badly-tuned sounds from the Orchestral section before it was Hermione's turn. She walked gracefully up the steps to the stage and indicated that the spotlight should be aimed at her. The jewels on her outfit glimmered in the spectacular lighting effects provided by some Ravenclaw boys as she launched into the plaintive strains of the opening song. The hall fell into hushed silence as her perfectly clear, pitched voice rang out. She was only interrupted by stifled sniffles and wails from some lame Hufflepuffs and a few bitch Ravenclaws as they realised they would never match her performance. As she trilled out the last notes, she allowed herself a wide, self-satisfied smile that showed off all her pearly-white teeth before descending from the stage to tumultuous applause. Only one person seemed to have anything derogatory to say about her spectacular display. A foot clad in a high-heeled, steel-toed Gladrags boot connected sharply with her bare ankle as she sauntered past the Slytherin section of the Great Hall.

"Oops. Sorry!" lisped Pansy Parkinson, shaking her sheet of blonde hair in an offhand manner and not sounding sorry at all. Then, in an easily audible stage whisper, Pansy remarked to her companion Millicent Bulstrode, "If you ask me," _which nobody did, _Hermione fumed, rubbing her ankle which was now blossoming into a nice, purply bruised colour, "some of these performances have been so... overstated. Totally _over the top._ A load of old rubbish!" 

That, Hermione thought, _was a matter of opinion._

Neville fumbled his way through his audition, finally bursting into tears as he attempted to dance jauntily around the stage for the fifth time. Try as he might, he could not get the two-step right, and McGonagall was making him continue to practise it in front of the jeering crowds gathered in the Hall.

After a few more hopefulls, it was Harry's turn. He came back from the stage looking pleased with himself, and when Ron's turn was finally over, they left, not wishing to witness any more of the talentless warblings that continued to echo from the large room. 

***

A seething crowd of jostling 6th years wrestled with each other to get to the large notice board at the foot of the Great hall. 

"I did well good, I did! It was, like, booyakasha an' dat, innit!" Ron remarked of his performance at the auditions. 

"Well, I don't fuckin' care, do I? It's only a fuckin' play. There are more important things, i'nt there, like, life on the streets, an', like, drugs 'n that." Dean Thomas' attitude to life had been greatly changed ever since he'd gotten to like Eminem. 

After the crowd had dispered, most people muttering disappointedly, Hermione (who had been lingering at the back) got a clear view of the board. It read,

CINDERELLA Hermione Granger

PRINCE CHARMING Draco Malfoy

BUTTONS Harry Potter

FAIRY GODMOTHER Rubeus Hagrid

UGLY SISTER #1 Vincent Crabbe

UGLY SISTER #2 Gregory Goyle

EVIL STEPMOTHER Lavender Brown

COACHMEN Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan

MESSENGER FROM PALACE Parvati Patil

ASSISTANT TO PRINCE CHARMING Neville Longbottom

KING AND QUEEN M. McGonagall and A. Dumbledore

HOPEFUL PRINCESSES All other girls who auditioned

VICAR Ginny Weasley

PANTOMIME COW - FRONT Ronald Weasley 

PANTOMIME COW - BACK Pansy Parkinson

Hermione smiled with satisfaction as her eyes travelled down the list. She snorted when she saw who would be accompanying Ron as the back of the Pantomime cow. Sure enough, a blood-curdling shriek echoed down the corridor as the girl herself appeared at Hermione's elbow having just spied the cast list. Pansy turned to her, her usually wide blue eyes reduced to malevolent slits. 

"You'll pay, bitch. One day, you'll pay." And with that, she stormed off, shaking her hair in a way she hoped was sufficiently menacing. Draco, who was waiting at the end of the corridor for his longtime girlfriend to return, looked back at Hermione and gave her an apologetic smile, rolling his eyes in an _I get that all the time _kind of way. 

He's easily rich enough to be a prince, Hermione thought, the trace of a smile flitting across her face, _and he's certainly very charming. _This pantomime thing was going to be even more fun than she'd hoped. 

She rejoined Harry and Ron who were waiting for her down the corridor. Harry looked pretty pleased about his part, and Ron looked to be taking rejection well. 

"Ya know, respect, 'nuff said, innit? You da man, Hazza! You da bomb! And I'm... da cow! Yeah!"

As they walked off to lunch, Hermione just caught Hannah Abbot wailing plaintively about her lack of a part. 

"I thought I did quite well!" she wailed, sinking onto the floor and bursting into noisy tears. Ron turned around just in time to catch Dean and Seamus' eyes, and the three boys launched into a noisy rendition of 'Who let the Dogs Out?' Hannah's tears reached a crescendo as Harry, Hermione and Ron rounded the corner and went to have lunch. 

***

Hermione collapsed into her seat in the Great Hall after another evening's strenuous rehearsal. This was the fourth week she'd had to squeeze into her costume every night, but she was loving every minute of it. 

McGonagall and several of the other teachers and students had come down with a nasty bout of 'flu, meaning the teachers' table at the head of the Hall was unusually empty. When only Professor Snape appeared for dinner, Dumbledore moved onto the Gryffindor table and took a seat next to Ron. Cho Chang had moved over from the Ravenclaw table and was sitting next to Harry. _Well, 'next to' is an understatement, _Hermione thought to herself, scowling involuntarily. _She's practically on his lap. _

Hermione was just reaching for the jug of Pumpkin juice when she caught Harry whispering something absolutely disgusting to Cho, who snorted and blushed. Startled, she brought her hand back sharply, and accidentally knocked her goblet onto the floor. She ducked under the table to retrieve it and wished she hadn't when she saw where Cho had her hands. She'd never have expected it of the prissy seventh-year bitch..._ the slut, _she thought. 

Hermione couldn't help feeling a bit lonely. Lee was right down at the other end of the Great Hall, where a large crowd of boys (and Millicent Bulstrode) were gathered around him. He certainly seemed to be very popular these days... 

But Ron _was _right opposite her... the chance was too good to resist. _Two can play at that game, Miss Chang, _she thought deviously. Kicking off her school boots, she ran her bare foot sensually up Ron's leg, pushing it as far up under his robes as it would go. Then she wiggled her toes. A few seconds later, he looked up at her, looking very red in the face, then down at his lap, then back at her again. She gave him the sexiest smile she could muster (which had been known to reduce grown men to tears on numerous occasions.) Ron grinned back, looking heartily embarrassed. Next to Ron, Dumbledore coughed. There were pink spots on his cheeks. _He must have seen, _Hermione thought. _Oh well... _and she employed the use of her other leg as well. 

Five minutes later, Harry looked over at Ron. Ron looked at Harry, then at Hermione, then down at his lap again. Then he stood up abruptly, giving everyone at the table a clear view of the dark stain that covered his whole lap. He had spilt an entire bowl of boiling soup all over himself. That explained the embarrassed looks he had given her... and the looks he had been directing at his lap. But then... _OH GOD. _With a sickening sense of trepidation, Hermione gave her toes an experimental wiggle. Yep. Ron was gone; her leg was still resting on something. And Professor Dumbledore was looking at her in a whole new light. With all the dignity she could muster, Hermione got to her feet and left. 

***

Draco signed the bottom of the letter he was writing with an extravagant flourish and gave it to his owl, Playboy, to take to his mother. He was running low on washing powder... again. Sighing, he got up and was just about to put a clean set of sheets on his bed when the door opened and Pansy burst in. Tears were streaming down her face and she was still wearing her half of her Pantomime costume. 

"Pansy! What on earth's the matter?" Draco asked, concerned. Pansy really was very delicate, and needed someone to look after her at most times. 

"It's... that Weasley boy! He's _horrible! I HATE HIM! _He trod on my toe _fifteen times! _And this outfit makes me look _FAT!"_

Draco grabbed her by the shoulders as gently as possible and steered her towards the bed. Then he remembered about the sheets and steered her away again. He finally managed to get her into her dorm and made her lay down and breathe deeply. This was difficult, as every few seconds she would burst into new complaints about her role in the play. Personally, Draco felt that Hermione made a far more appropriate Cinderella than his blonde girlfriend, who would never be seen dead in rags even if it meant she got the lead role. But he also felt that telling her this would not be a good plan. In an attempt to cheer Pansy up, Draco managed to produce some ice-cream from an unknown location. 

"I can't eat it! I'll get FAT! Look at me... I'm UGLY!"

This was an utter lie; Pansy was almost invisible when viewed from side-on and Draco could easily carry her over long distances (which she frequently demanded.) With her wide, blue eyes, sheet of blonde hair and tiny, upturned nose, she was by no means ugly. In fact, she was the envy of most of the girls in the school after Hermione, who for some reason (probably her promiscuity) always emerged as being more popular. Pansy didn't care; with a boyfriend like Draco she hardly needed to play the field. 

Draco reassured her that she was neither fat nor ugly. She finally gave in and told him to open the ice-cream. 

"I'll tell you who is fat, though," Pansy remarked, lounging on her four-poster while Draco searched for some spoons. "Pav_rat_i Patil!" Pansy purposely mispronounced her least favourite person's name, stressing the 'rat' especially, which infuriated the asian girl. Winding up Parvati was one of Pansy's favourite passtimes. "I saw her at rehearsals... she could hardly fit into her 'messenger from the palace' costume! She made one of the buttons pop off. She's fat, fat, fat, fat FAT!" Pansy giggled, relating this piece of news as though it had made her day (which it probably had.) 

"Draco, stop fussing. We don't need spoons, anyway." Draco looked up in puzzlement, then understanding dawned and he bared his chest before trailing his finger through the top layer of ice-cream and running it sexily along his skin. With a sideways smile, he asked,

"Hungry?" 

***

Ron sniffed his armpits. The 'Mr. Skower's Magical B.O Remover' seemed to be working. Despite the comments he had received about his sweat problem, he still really didn't think it was him causing the smell. He applied another coat of deodorant for good luck, and began to put on his robes when Neville sauntered in, a towel draped around his semi-naked form. Neville's eyes lingered on Ron's bare chest and legs for a moment, then he looked away, blushing. Ron shook his head, muttering, "poofter" under his breath as Neville tripped over his trunk and dropped his towel, baring all to the world. 

Five minutes later, Dean, Seamus and Harry burst in, complaining loudly about the 'stink' outside and began their usual taunting of Ron for his 'BO problem.' 

"Look, guys, it really isn't me! Sniff!" Ron protested, motioning to his armpits. Reluctantly, the boys all inhaled the squeaky-clean scent of Ron's armpits, (which, incidentally, really _did _smell like roses.) They were forced to agree that Ron wasn't the cause of the problem.

Stepping out into the common room, the smell was even worse. 

"Gross!" Ron remarked. "Let's find out where it's coming from. I can't take the smell anymore!"

The boys set off down the corridor, following their noses. If the smell faded, they changed direction. As they went further down towards the ground floor of the castle, the smell got worse. Ron was wondering if it could be coming from the potions lab; some of Snape's concoctions were pretty foul-smelling. But the smell was more intense further down the corridor. They passed a stretch of damp wall, but then noticed the smell receeding again. They doubled back, pacing up and down until they located the spot where the smell was strongest. Pinching their noses, they stopped for a discussion.

"That is fuckin' minging," Dean muttered, bashing the wall in frustration and then trying not to show that he had grazed his knuckles.

"I know where we are," Ron said, remembering. "We're outside the Slytherin common room!"

Harry nodded; he remembered too, from when they had masqueraded as Crabbe and Goyle in their second year. Before anyone could ask any awkward questions about how they knew where the common room was, footsteps could be heard advancing down the corridor. Harry whipped out his invisibility cloak and they all huddled under it as Snape strode towards them. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Severus put his hand on a brick and muttered the password just loud enough for the boys to catch. Then he climbed through the hole that opened in the wall. When he reappeared a few minutes later (looking slightly green in the face) and had rounded the corner, the boys stepped out of the shadows and opened the hole in the wall for themselves. They advanced into the dimly lit dungeon room and were instantly hit with an overpowering wave of stench so strong that Harry wanted to vomit. The common room was empty at first glance, but the sounds of muffled chatter from behind closed doors betrayed the fact that the Slytherins were, in fact, all in there. Still wearing the cloak, Dean tentatively pushed open one of the dormitory doors, and was surprised to find that there was not trace of the smell in there whatsoever. He supposed that was what Snape had been in there to do; set up wards around all the rooms to block out the unholy stink. He hastily shut the door when he got an eyeful of the inhabitants of the room, who seemed to be attacking each other using some kind of ice-cream tub. Or something like that...

They advanced into the darkest corner of the common room and met with a horrific sight. Crabbe and Goyle, both topless, were sitting cross-legged on the floor. They had T-shirts wrapped around their heads in the style of turbans and were chanting some kind of mantra as they wove their arms into intricate patterns in the air. The incense that was burning could not muffle the reek they were emitting. It was too much for Harry. Pale and trembling, he grabbed Goyle's turban, and, doubling up, vomited into it. Wiping his mouth, he replaced the turban onto the top of Goyle's head. The overweight, sweaty boy didn't even notice. 

"We've gotta do something!" Ron moaned, pinching his nose even harder. The others nodded in agreement. 

*

After they had given both Crabbe and Goyle a thourough and rigorous rubdown using large quantities of soapy water and industrial standard scrubbing brushes, and Harry had been sick three more times at the sight of Crabbe and Goyle's naked forms, the common room finally began to smell a little bit better. Crabbe and Goyle were still chanting in deep concentration (something like 'filthiness is next to godliness') but at least they didn't stink any more. Ron sprayed the last of his deodorant around the room before they hurried out into the corridor. Their job was done.

***

A furious and almost silent fight was in full swing behind one of the shower curtains in the girls' changing rooms. A small hole that had been made in the middle of the nylon material was the only viewpoint to the communal area outside where a horde of female quidditch players were showering off after a difficult evenings' practice. Since experiencing Harry's coveted invisibility cloak first hand, Dean and Seamus had been keen to try it for more... entertaining purposes. Ron, of course, had been keen to join in. 

Now the four of them were jostling for a place at the peephole and were making more noise than was wise. In fact, at that moment Angelina walked dangerously close to the cubicle where they were hiding and looked suspiciously at the empty space where a pair of feet should have been, before passing them by and beginning to strip off. Seamus, who had possession of the peephole, moaned appreciatively at the sight of her lithe form. 

"It's my turn," Ron hissed. Harry protested, claiming that it was now _his _turn. Dean, who did not go for discussion as a way of solving arguments, shoved Seamus roughly.

"Get the fuck out of my fuckin' way!" Dean exclaimed vehemently. His forceful push sent Seamus sprawling out of the cubicle and across the floor, where he very visibly skidded to a halt between Millicent Bulstrode's beefy legs. Screwing up his eyes in revulsion and also in the vain hope that maybe he would wake up somewhere that was not quite so incriminating, he lay quite still while the girls around him squealed and tried to cover themselves up. Not so for Millicent. Slowly and deliberately, she reached down (at which Seamus screwed up his face again, feeling that he would have to try very hard not to vomit right onto her) and picked him up by the scruff of his neck. Seamus emitted a high pitched squeak as she slammed him against the wall. The next thing he knew, a large, hairy fist was heading for his face, and the Irish boy knew no more.

Once Alicia had regained her composure, she wrapped a towel around herself and whisked aside the curtain of the cubicle where the suspicious noises had been coming from. But in the commotion, Harry Ron and Dean had slipped away leaving Seamus to fend for himself. In the end, a kindly sixth year ravenclaw girl heaved him out of the door, still unconscious. 

After the comparative success of the shower room escapade, Dean and Ron were hungry for more experiences of the same kind. Harry refused to let them use his cloak again; he didn't want to lose it. They would have to formulate another plan.

***

The Great Hall buzzed with chatter as the Gryffindor 6th years filed in to dinner. Hermione dropped into a seat next to Lee Jordan, who smiled at her and began to converse animatedly about the thrills and spills of Quidditch Commentary. Hermione's huge smile became rather fake after five minutes of nodding and 'really listening' to everything he was saying. Harry, Dean, Seamus and Ron found seats at the far end of the table where they could talk without fear of being overheard. The only other boys near them were Neville and (inexplicably) Ernie Macmillan. Dean nudged Harry and muttered,

"What are they, fuckin' poofs or something?"

Harry looked around to check that nobody was listening, then leaned forward and replied,

"This is strictly on a need-to-know basis, right, but... yeah. Nev told me in the showers a couple of weeks ago."

"Showers? You'd better watch out, Harry. I reckon he fancies you!"

"Shut up!" Harry hissed, "he'll hear you! And you have to promise you won't tell anyone. His cousin is 'Big Burt', you know, the one who was a 7th year when we were first years? He'll kick my arse if he finds out people have been teasing Neville."

At this dismaying news, Dean assumed his most sincere face and promised on his mother's life that 'nobody would hear it from him.' Seamus swore he'd take it to his grave. Ron muttered something about 'cross my heart and hope to die' but Harry made him start again when he discovered Ron's fingers were crossed. He was halfway through the vow for the second time when he stopped abruptly. He seemed to be fighting some kind of painful internal struggle, which it only took him a few seconds to lose miserably.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I just can't!" And with that, Ron leaped onto the table and shouted for silence. He had put the 'sonorus' charm on his voice, and it echoed loudly. All around the hall, heads snapped up. Hermione looked particularly pleased at the distraction. With another wave of his wand, the lights dimmed and coloured spotlights illuminated the table like a stage. 

"Cue the music!" Ron yelled, and the opening strains of a popular disco hit began to blare. 

"All together now!" and as magical streamers fell from the ceiling, Ron launched into the chorus with the whole hall singing behind him. Complete with the appropriate hand actions.

"YMCA! NEVILLE IS GAY!" It even rhymed. A spotlight shone right into Neville startled face. He burst into tears, but nobody heard because they were too busy singing and laughing. Ernie Macmillan put an arm around Neville and led him out of the hall to appreciative cheers and whistles. Hermione, who hadn't known, was laughing so hard her tears were in danger of smudging her eyeliner. Neville directed a hurt look at Harry before a fresh wave of tears overcame him and he ran out of the hall, Ernie in hot pursuit with longing and sorrow on his face. 

When the hall had returned to comparative quiet, Dean stood up and took a deep breath to calm himself. 

"I've, er, gotta go. Important business, ya know..." and he wandered off. Harry wondered where he was going, but Seamus and Ron were exchanging knowing looks. Harry thought it better not to ask. He might not understand, and that would be embarrassing.

*

Hermione was getting more and more irritated. All Lee could talk about was Quidditch, Quidditch, Quidditch. Even Ron had better conversational skills. But Lee was obviously really popular... so far this evening, eighteen people had requested that he came over for a '_quiet word_, or a _'little chat.' _They had all been boys (except Millicent Bulstrode) and had all used the same quiet, conspirational tone. Hermione wondered what it was all about. Maybe a gang... or a secret cult... or a band of rebels... she sighed dreamily. He was so... mysterious. She thought she might be falling in love. And he was so good looking... OK, so he was about as exciting as Birmingham Bullring on a wet Wednesday, but she didn't care... that wasn't the sort of thing you worried about, when you were in love...

Dean wandered up, looking slightly suspicious. He seemed to have something under his robes that he was trying to hide. He glanced at Hermione in a puzzled way, before leaning down to speak to Lee. 

"OK, I've got the stuff. Where's the goods?" 

"Look out, will ya mate? Not here... I've got company, can't you see, ya dick'ead?"

"Oh, sorry mate. But... do you think...?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be with ya in a minute. Hold on."

Lee pecked Hermione on the cheek, and before she had time to ask exactly what Dean meant by 'goods', he had stood up.

"Gotta go, babe. Duty calls. Be good, won't ya?" And he strode off to join Dean.

Wow... he's so, like, refined! Hermione thought. _And he's got a secret... how mysterious, how exciting! _She resolved to discover what it was he was up to.

She leaned back in her seat, losing herself in a blissful reverie about her and Lee's life in the criminal underworld... when a horrible stench wafted past her. Parvati Patil was walking past behind her, carrying a bowl of... _eurgh! Rice Pudding. And was that... Horseradish Sauce? _Hermione surveyed the mess in the bowl with disgust. How could she _eat _that? Intrigued, Hermione watched as Parvati sat down (it was a tight fit; she could barely fit under the table) and begin to dip french fries into her already revolting combination. Feeling nauseous, Hermione sat fascinated. Parvati quickly finished the bowl and went back to get second helpings. Come to think of it, she remembered that last week, she had seen the girl eat chocolate biscuits piled high with salad cream... she shuddered. It was probably some weird Hindu custom... Hannouka? Eid? Divali? Hermione had never been good at Religious Education at her muggle primary school. 

*

When Lee failed to return, Hermione got up and left the great hall. She was just making her way down the corridor when Parvati hurried past, as fast as she could go. She was accompanied by a strange wailing sound that turned out to be coming from a siren attatched to the back of her head. A sign on her robes read 'wide load.' Hermione wondered who could possibly be so cruel when the impossibly thin answer came tearing down the corridor, shreiking with laughter and pelting Parvati with Fizzing Whizbees. 

"FAT! FAT! FAT! PavRATi is FAT!" Pansy called as she danced along behind the waddling girl. Woe betide anyone who became Pansy's arch-enemy. Even though she didn't really like Parvati, Hermione felt very sorry for the poor girl. Nobody deserved to be victimised by Pansy Parkinson that badly. She had to do something. She grabbed Parvati by the shoulders and ripped the siren off of her head. Unfortunately, she was a little forceful and a clump of Parvati's hair came with it. Hermione gulped guiltily and hastily stuck the hair back on with a badly executed glueing charm. Hopefully Parvati wouldn't notice the sticky mess that had once been several feet of glossy black hair. The removal of the sign was much more successful. Hermione promised Parvati (who was now in tears,) that she would be back soon to talk to her. _Now to get rid of Pansy._

Hermione strode over to the blonde waif and tapped her on the shoulder. Pansy whipped around, narrowing her eyes when she saw who had spoiled her dance of triumph at infuriating Parvati yet again.

"Um, like, Pansy? Hermione began, "your hair... there's um... well..." that was all it took. 

"My hair?" Pansy shrieked, running her hands over her sleek blonde mane, "there's something wrong with my hair? AAARRRRGGGGGH! DRACO! HELP ME!" she wailed, and ran off down the corridor in a frenzy. 

Hermione returned to Parvati, and led her into the girls' dormitory. Then she sat her down and looked her straight in the eyes. 

"Parvati? Are you, like, pregnant?" 

Parvati's dark eyes spilled over with tears as she nodded almost imperceptibly. Hermione felt that this would be the appropriate moment to pull her into a girly, comforting hug. _Wow, _she thought, _I'm getting glue, like, on my nail varnish, and I don't even care! I'm such a good samaritan! _

"It's OK, Parvati. It's good that you've told someone. Now..." she extricated a tissue from her pocket and handed it to Parvati, "dry your eyes, and I'll fix your hair up. There's no need to worry." While Parvati dried her eyes, Hermione quickly rejoined Parvati's beautiful long hair back onto her scalp and combed it through. Then she wound it into a neat plait and fastened it with a glittery butterfly. "Much better. Oh, um... do you know who the father is?"

"Yeah," she said shakily. "It's Blaise Zabini. It was at one of Lee's parties. You know... where all the 'rough crowd' hang out. I was there with Lavender, and we got separated. I was very, very drunk, and I guess it just, sort of... happened. He was really nice at first... he said... he said I had 'killer legs', and he wanted to photograph them... I was such a mug. I'm not proud of myself. I don't know what... what my parents - what my parents will..." she began to cry again. Hermione embraced her, feeling sorry but also excited. Lee was even more dangerous than she had thought. She would have to find out when he was planning on having another of these 'parties', and infiltrate it. She remembered seeing Blaise at dinner; he'd been one of the crowd eager to speak to Lee. He hadn't seemed so bad... quite good looking, in a 'goth' kind of way. Boys like that weren't really Hermione's type... not that she was particularly discriminating. And something about the cheap line he'd used to chat up Parvati was scarily familiar...no. She was imagining things. 

It was Parvati's fault she had behaved so irresponsibly. A girl like Hermione could easily have taken care of herself in a situation like that.She patted Parvati on the back and asked the most important question of them all. 

"So... are you going to keep the baby?" 

"I - I have to," she sobbed. "It's a disgrace in my religion to have an abortion. I guess the baby will have to live at my parents' house. There's no way I can support it. And I need to continue my education so that I can get a job... to pay for the baby..."

Hermione was about to recite one of her facts; that Britain had the highest percentage of teenage pregnancies in Europe and that they should be helping to reduce this number, but Parvati looked determined. And hell, it wasn't her job to interfere. Let her suffer... Hermione didn't really care. She'd done her bit by sympathising and asking all the customary questions. She supposed she could have 'paced anxiously' a bit more, but she hadn't wanted to overdo her reaction. 

"Well, if you're, like, sure. You'd better go and speak to Madam Pomfrey. She'll be delivering, I assume?" 

"I - I suppose," Parvati whimpered. Hermione could tell she hadn't really thought this through. 

"Well, off you go," Hermione prompted. "She'll be able to help you a lot more than I have." _Cue praise, _she thought.

"No, you've been great, Hermione, honest. Thankyou for being so kind. Not many girls would understand." 

Hermione assumed her 'modest' expression as Parvati went in search of medical attention. This would be the perfect chance for Hermione to exact revenge on Pansy. And she knew exactly when and how she'd do it. Not yet... the time was not yet right. 

***

Harry recited the last incantation and the one-way window was complete. He scrutinised the wall of the girls' shower room for any sign of his handiwork - no, it looked completely normal. There was no sign that there was in fact a window there that connected with the boys' changing rooms. He, Dean, Seamus and Ron were planning on observing the girls from a safer distance this time, and this was the ingenious plan they had come up with. They would be able to watch everything through a large window, but they would be completely invisible from other side... he hoped. He checked it one more time. It seemed that he'd done everything correctly... now he could leave. He looked around for the invisibility cloak before remembering he'd decided not to bring it. He reached for the door handle, but froze seconds later. Was that the murmur of voices he could hear? He stood totally still, listening. The voices were getting closer... he could make out what they were saying. Unmistakeably female voices... getting louder.

"God, I'm hot. I _really _need a shower!"

"This year, that Quidditch cup is ours!"

"No way... Ravenclaw are _so _gonna win!"

"Yeah, well at least we know _Hufflepuff _don't have a chance!"

"Hey!"

Harry opened the door a fraction, decided against going out when he saw almost twenty girls advancing down the corridor, then ran back into the shower room. He looked at the wall in desperation, shrugging at the blank space from where he knew Dean, Seamus and Ron would be watching. He flapped about, running around in circles because his brain could think of nothing better to do. As the door swung open, he forced himself to dive into one of the cubicles and swished the curtain across just as a crowd of sweaty girls began to divest and step under the streams of hot water. _How on earth was he going to get out of this one?_

*

Dean attatched the bit of parchment to Pigwidgeon's leg and sent him off out of the changing rooms. 

"What're you doing, Dean?" Seamus asked curiously. He was munching popcorn which they had prepared especially for the occasion. 

"I'm sendin' an Owl to Lee Jordan. He said he'd 'make it worth my while' if we tipped him off about this whole 'arrangement.'"

"Hey, look! What's Harry doing?" Ron asked, pointing at Harry. He had frozen by the door and seemed to be very scared about something. Then he ran back into the room. 

"God knows," Dean muttered. "Silly wanker. Look at 'im. Now 'e's runnin' round in circles like an 'eadless fucking chicken!"

Harry shrugged desperately at them before diving into a cubicle. Because they couldn't hear what was going on in the other room, they didn't know that the girls were about to burst in. When they did, the boys cheered appreciatively, forgetting momentarily about Harry's predicament. 

*

Twenty minutes later, Harry was worrying less about the danger of discovery and thouroughly enjoying every minute of his 'front row seat.' But new horror washed over him when Katie Bell remarked,

"There's someone in that shower with shoes on!"

Angelina sauntered over to the curtain and peered under it so that she too could see Harry's feet. 

"Are you alright in there?" she enquired.

Harry's mind was working very quickly. He was completely panicked. At least his voice hadn't broken yet. He had to say something, otherwise they would certainly look in and all would be lost. He swallowed, and then putting on the highest, most feminine voice he could muster, replied very quickly.

"Yes! I'm fine! Just worried about catching veruccas!" He waited anxiously for how this would be received. Angelina and Katie exchanged looks, and Katie muttered, "Probably a Hufflepuff" before wrapping her towel around her and stepping out of the shower. A load more girls came in from their Quidditch practise. Harry started to wonder if he'd possibly maybe get out of this with nothing more than an exciting tale to tell the lads.

*

The door of the boys' changing room burst in and Lee Jordan swaggered in. He was followed by Colin Creevey, who had a video camera as well as a normal photographic camera slung around his neck. 

"This is my assistant, Colin," Lee said to the boys by way of introduction. "And he will be filming today's escapades." Then, catching sight of the 4ft by 8ft. window Harry had erected, exclaimed "Crikey O'Reilly!" and sank into one of the front row seats, grabbing a handful of popcorn. Then he reached into one of the numerous pockets on his robes and extricated a bundle of notes as well as two videos with blank cases. He peeled off five of the notes which he handed to Dean along with the videos. 

"Use them well," Lee instructed with a wink, "and remember my 'secrecy policy.' You ain't seen me, right?"

"Whatever," Dean said. He was staring at the screen which by now was full of 'bathing beauties.' 

A few moments later, however, the door opened again. The boys froze, expecting a teacher. But instead, what looked like the whole list of Lee's 'clients' came in, whooping and cheering. Several of them had brought cans of butterbeer, and something that looked a good deal stronger. 

Dean looked at Ron.

"Ron, what the fuck has that fuckin' owl gone and fuckin' done?" 

Ron shook his head mutely. He had no idea how Pig had managed to cock this one up. The large crowd behind them were being very noisy, and through his nudity-inspired trance, Ron had time to worry that they might be discovered. To solve this problem, he whipped out his wand and quickly made a sound barrier all along the wall. His peace of mind restored, he went back to enjoying the show. All concern about Harry had vanished for the present. 

*

Pig was very confused. Boy, what a night that had been. He'd had three 'all night seed binges' in as many days, and it was taking its toll. But Playboy really knew how to organise the best parties... his lapse of concentration meant he flew into a stone wall. It was very painful. Pig picked himself up. He had to find _Leejordan - _student number 0867. If only Hogwarts would keep still. It kept moving. Hang on... _why were there three Hogwarts_'? 

He had to get to a nest, and fast. Through his blurred vision, he thought he saw a likely looking bunch of twigs. He made a hasty and clumsy landing on the 'nest.' Luckily, it turned out to be a mass of matted hair. With a hoot of relief, Pig realised that by coincidence he had found _Leejordan. _He delivered his message. Lee's face lit up when he read the note attatched to Pig's leg. 

"Well done, little fella," Lee praised. "Now. Go _back to Dean. Back to Dean. _Got it?" and Lee hurled the tiny owl over his shoulder. Pig tried valiantly to stay airborne. But he was so heavy... it was no use. His wings gave up flapping and he blacked out. 

*

George Weasley trod on something small and fluffy. It hooted feebly. With a shock, he realised it was Pigwidgeon. George scooped up the tiny owl and saw that there was a note attatched to its (broken) leg. He removed it and scanned the page. Like Lee's had before him, George's face lit up. He showed it to Fred. It read,

URGENT! For a bit of Christmas Cheer, be in the Boys' Changing Rooms at 7:00 p.m. For mature viewers only. From Dean.

This was all they needed to hear. Fred pinned the notice to the wallwhile George found a dumb first year willing to take Pig back to the owlery to recuperate. Then they headed for the changing rooms, rounding up their friends _en route. _

*

The Boys' changing room was full to bursting with excitable students. It seemed the whole of the school's upper years had accepted the impromptu invitation. However, there were only a few girls left in the showers now, and they were mostly reserves for the Hufflepuff and Slytherin team. A few people began to leave. Alicia, Angelina and Katie wandered in, and tumultuous applause, wolf whistles and cheering greeted them. They stopped short when they saw the huge screen, squealed in alarm and turned around to go back and warn the remaining girls. When even Millicent Bulstrode had been convinced to abandon her shower, it seemed they had lost their audience. Angelina returned minutes later. 

"Right, we've warned everyone. Show's over, folks. Off you go!"

Grumbling disappointedly, several students turned to go. Seamus, however, called out.

"Hey! Someone else is coming in! It's Cho Chang!"

A huge cheer went up; Cho was easily one of the best looking girls in the school. The girls stood transfixed in horror as she started to remove her clothes. Being the Ravenclaw captain, she had stayed behind and missed the warning about the rigged shower room. Alicia opened the door and was about to leave, but suddenly stopped. Something very interesting was happening on the screen, and suddenly she decided Cho would want to be left alone. Smiling deviously, she joined her friends and settled down to watch the developments. 

*

Harry sighed with relief. All the girls had gone at last. He pulled back the curtain and stepped out of the cubicle. He was already looking forward to being hailed as a hero by his friends on his triumphant return to the Common Room. He halted in alarm. It seemed there was a latecomer. Panicking once more, he dived back into the cubicle and hid, paralysed with fright. Cho Chang entered, looking dishevelled and sweaty, but still delicately pretty. He squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of Dean, Ron and Seamus seeing his girlfriend-of-sorts naked. He really should warn her... but wait. Doing that would mean revealing himself. And he couldn't do that... Cho musn't know, or she'd never speak to him again. She turned on the water and stepped into the shower. Even in his awkward position, Harry couldn't help letting his eyes linger on her... she really was beautiful. His legs were wobbling... he must not be discovered. 

Cho let the water soak her hair. It really needed a wash after all the hard training she'd been doing. Damn. She'd forgotten her shampoo. Aha; there was one person still here. 

"Hello?" she called out. "Hey, do you have any shampoo? I've forgotten mine!"

Harry didn't know what to do. If he replied, Cho would certainly recognise his voice. So he kept silent in the vain hope that she would give up and maybe even go away. 

"Hello? Are you OK in there?" Still there was no response. But Cho could see feet underneath the shower curtain. She'd better go and have a look; they might be hurt, or worse. Cautiously, she walked over to Harry's hiding place. She looked under the curtain. Yes, there was definitely somebody in there. Why were they wearing robes? Were they mad? 

"Hello?" she tried for a final time. A strangled gurgling noise came from the other side of the curtain. Harry felt near to nervous collapse. 

"It's OK. I'm coming in to help you," Cho reassured the mystery figure. Nervously, she pulled back a small corner of the curtain. Harry couldn't move. He just had to stand and watch as she pulled back the curtain, watch as her face fell and then clouded with anger at the sight of him.

"Harry! You bad boy!" she reprimanded. 

"Oh, God. I'm sorry. I - I should go. I'm sorry. What was I thinking?" 

"Well... you have seen me," Cho pondered. "Strip."

"Strip?" Harry squeaked. 

"Slowly." 

Harry gulped. _His three friends were watching..._ little did he know that there were closer to three hundred students eagerly watching his every move.

*

"What are they talking about?" Ron asked. It was very annoying not being able to hear.

"I have no idea," Dean murmured. He was watching transfixed.

*

Cho wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel and sat down on one of the benches in the changing rooms. She paused for a moment in thought, then waved her wand in the air. Tinny, trashy dance music filled the small room.

"Perfect," she said, grinning. "Now dance!"

Harry stood perfectly still for a moment. He did not know that his reputation at Hogwarts was hanging in the balance. It was make or break time. And he didn't know which way he was going when he started to untie the belt of his robes. Luckily, they were the kind which crossed over rather than pulled over his head. He didn't think _that _would look very sexy. 

He slipped the robes over his shoulders and exposed his underclothes. _Damn. I knew I shouldn't have worn one of Dudley's old vests today, _Harry cursed. He tried to dance a bit more in time to the music. He whipped off the vest and was left only in his boxer shorts. 

They had little snitches on them; they had been his birthday present from Hermione. The gift tag had read _'Maybe one day someone will actually see them.'_

*

Hermione remembered this with a smile as she sat next to Lee watching Harry's adventures. It was actually quite ironic.

Colin kept taking pictures, and Dean was using the video camera. Hermione wondered exactly what they were planning to use them for. Of course, that was only known to one Mr. Lee Jordan. But Hermione couldn't know any better. After all, she was in love... 

Lee had whooped appreciatively at all of the girls so far, which left Hermione feeling jealous and more than a little inclined to join the Quidditch team.

Blaise Zabini was leaning against the window, staring hard at Harry. Then he exclaimed,

"That guy's in my Potions class!" Crabbe and Goyle nodded. Then they began to chant.

"Go potions boy! It's your birthday!" 

Hermione sighed. Had _everyone _seen that film? 

*

Harry ran the dirty grey vest sensually between his legs as the music grew more frenetic. Cho seemed to be enjoying herself.

"More, more! You bad boy!" she called. 

Harry was wondering whether he was supposed to take his boxers off. Why wasn't there a book that told you about these kinds of things? But he was enjoying himself too much to really worry. _Hell, he didn't care if three of his best friends were watching. Dammit, he wouldn't care if three hundred people were watching!_ Which was lucky.

"Now, come to me," Cho purred. Harry was all too willing to oblige. He sat down next to her, wondering what was going to happen next. 

Cho pushed him onto his back and rolled over on top of him. This took him by surprise...but before he could enjoy the experience of having a naked girl on top of him properly, the door burst open and an irate McGonagall stormed in followed by Professor Flitwick. They stopped short at the sight which greeted them. They blinked several times. McGonagall pinched herself on the arm. Then on the other arm.

"Ouch," was the first thing she said. Then she passed out. Tiny Professor Flitwick was swaying on his feet. Harry felt he should do something. He stood up.

"It's not what it looks like," he said, but Professor Flitwick was looking at Cho, who was now totally exposed in her nakedness. Then he, too, passed out. 

***

"I would _never _have expected this of Hogwarts students!" McGonagall ranted. Harry and Cho were now both fully clothed. Harry's face was the same colour as his Gryffindor sweater. Cho just looked bored. She couldn't believe Harry _still _owned that dorky jumper. Christ, it was bobbly. And it made him look _fat. _She'd have to get him out of it somehow. She grinned. _Shouldn't be too hard, _she thought.

"I don't see what's so funny, Miss Chang!" McGonagall spat. "I would have thought I could have expected more responsible behaviour from you. At least you're old enough to know better." 

Harry felt insulted. He _was _sixteen. 

"Um, Professor?" Cho asked. "What exactly did we do wrong?" she had a strong suspicion that there were no school rules governing that particular type of extra-curricular activity.

Now it was McGonagall's turn to blush. 

"I would have thought that was obvious. Do I really need to spell it out?" 

"Er, yes." said Harry. After the insult about his age, he was keen to see his Professor squirm.

"Damage to school property. Abusing school facilities. And one case of indecent exposure."

Cho laughed. "Is that it?"

Harry couldn't believe their strict teacher would let them off that lightly. He was right.

"You will both have eight weeks' detention, which you will serve every night. Miss Chang has an additional three weeks because she was the one doing the exposure." Harry sat open mouthed. He had never received such a strict punishment. But McGonagall wasn't finished. 

"You both lose your respective houses fifty points. And your detentions will be scrubbing the teacher's bathtubs. And the teacher's toilets. And maybe Dumbledore's back. Got that?" 

They nodded mutely. Cho looked more angry than shocked. On their way out, she muttered,

"Maybe if you had a few boyfriends of your own once in a while, you wouldn't get so hung up about it."

"I heard that. That's another week you've earned yourself, Chang," McGonagall's voice followed them down the corridor and out into the grounds. 

**End of part two. **

**A/N: Please R/R this part! Hehe... too much American Pie is bad for us. And euuurrggh! Dudley's vest. Gross. Okay, on to part Three! Aurora and Drosera.**


	3. The Pantomime

**Generation X - Autumn Term**

Part three: The Pantomime

The curtains rose as Hermione leaned on her mop and assumed her 'tragic heroine' expression. She had promised herself that she would make this role sparkle. She would give the audience something to remember... and she had not forgotten her vow to get even with Pansy. She stared out into the sea of faces. Her parents had not been able to make it for the performance, but close to three thousand people filled the magically expanded Great Hall. She didn't really mind; with the vengeance session she had planned, it was probably just as well her family weren't here to watch. It should certainly spice up the second half. 

The music of the opening song began to play. It was the one she had sung at the audition, and was one of the highlights of the show. She began to sing, and relaxed visibly as soon as she got into the swing of the song. Her voice was loud because of the microphones they all wore on their collars. Lee was up in the 'audio and visual effects box' and would be controlling all of the various technological gadgets that had been set up especially for the occasion. Her dress flew out as she executed a series of perfect twirls across the stage. She would give them _all _something to remember. 

When the song was over, Millicent Bulstrode entered as the Ugly Stepmother. When the hideous Slytherin had delivered her monosyllabic lines, it was time for the Ugly Sisters to enter. This was where the 'comedy' of the Pantomime really began. The Sisters were supposed to come swinging in from either side of the stage in the style of Tarzan. However, after Lee had paid the Ravenclaw boys to resign as Special Effects co-ordinators, the quality of the Stage Management had reduced visibly. Lee liked to be in charge, and had used some of his seemingly inexhaustible supply of money to obtain his enviable position. This was not good for the Ugly Sisters. Crabbe and Goyle swung in on ropes that were far too short and were positioned in such a way that they swung smack bang into each other. They fell the remaining ten feet down onto the stage where they landed painfully sprawled on top of each other. The audience gasped. Hermione winced and sincerely hoped that they had not been knocked out. But she had underestimated the hard-headedness of Crabbe and Goyle. They got to their feet and continued as if nothing had happened. Professor McGonagall had never been more delighted with them. 

The Pantomime Cow had its entrance next. Ron had a few difficulties because at first the back end of the cow (Pansy) refused to move, and he had to drag her onstage. Then she sat and sulked in the cow's bottom. After an awkward pause, she leaped to her feet and started to charge around madly; it was always one extreme or another for Pansy. Ron tried valiantly to keep up with her, but the cow was in severe danger of tearing in half because it kept wanting to go two ways at once. Still, it raised several laughs. The audience seemed to think it was all part of the act. It looked like the pantomime was going to be a success.

Then it was Parvati's part. Crabbe and Goyle had to forcibly restrain the back end of the pantomime cow, which was making violent advances on the Messenger from the Palace. Parvati was halfway through delivering the message when it happened. She suddenly clutched her stomach and collapsed onto her knees with a wail of pain. Hermione knew what was going on; they had to get Madam Pomfrey, and fast. The Pantomime Cow seemed shocked. It stood absolutely still for the first time since it's entrance several scenes back. Hermione rushed to Parvati's side and looked over her shoulder. She read the 'message from the palace' out loud herself, which was difficult because Parvati was clutching her hand and squeezing it so tightly Hermione thought she might have a few broken fingers. She had to get Parvati to a qualified medic; she couldn't have her ruining the performance. But she had to do it without making it too obvious. Thinking wildly, she shouted the first thing that came into her head. 

"Is there a doctor in the house?" When she got no response, she tried the more direct approach. 

"She's having a baby!" she screeched. The audience seemed to find this extremely funny. They chanted,

"OH NO SHE'S NOT!"

"OH YES SHE IS!"

"OH NO SHE'S NOT!"

"OH YES SHE IS, AND YOU'D BETTER BLOODY WELL BELIEVE IT,"Hermione yelled at the top of her voice. This was no time for fun and games. The fate of the Pantomime was at stake. 

McGonagall, knowing this was not in the script, and anxious to avoid the tarnishing of Cinderella's squeaky clean reputation, hurriedly shoved Madam Pomfrey onstage with a hiss of "Improvise!"

Madam Pomfrey whisked Parvati offstage and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. That had been close. The audience were responding brilliantly. They still seemed to think it was all a joke. From her place centre stage, Hermione could hear vague cries coming from the corridor outside. She actually hoped Parvati would be OK; a rare compassionate thought. 

But the show must go on. 

Hagrid delivered an inspired performance as the Fairy Godmother. He had played the 'dame' in every Pantomime since he'd joined the Hogwarts staff. Next it was a scene at the palace. Hermione waltzed offstage to tumultuous applause. She was clearly emerging as the star of the show. 

Draco pranced onto the stage in an extremely tight fitting pair of tights, pantaloons, a doublet and a ruff. There were many appreciative wolf-whistles and cheers from the females in the front row. _This _was what they came to see. Hermione watched him from the sidelines. His aristocratic drawl suited the part perfectly, and he really could act very well. Exacting her revenge on Pansy was going to be a _lot _of fun. 

Next it was Neville's 'jaunty dance' at the palace where the Prince's ball was being made ready. Neville, being Prince Charming's assistant, was in charge of the preparations.

McGonagall had finally managed to train him into doing the dance perfectly. It was very quick, and fairly physically demanding. For the pudgy boy, it was quite a feat, to say the least. Neville was proud of his achievement and had been eagerly anticipating performance day when his moment of glory would finally come. 

The twostep music started and Neville skipped onstage to applause. He was beaming as his feet fell into time with the music and he tapped, stepped and hopped his way through the first half of the song. 

Lee was bored. Nothing had gone wrong for the last few minutes, and this dance didn't have any fun lighting effects he could have a go at. He didn't know what he was doing, but was having great fun trying out every single one of the multitude of buttons in front of him. It had definitely been worth bribing those Ravenclaws to get this job. He leaned back in his comfortable swivel chair. Just how far back did it it go? He decided to find out. Unfortunately, it didn't go very far, and the chair tipped up dangerously when his weight was applied to it. He scrabbled around madly and found purchase on something. He pulled himself back up, but something had happened to the music. He had accidentally changed the speed of the record, and the already fast twostep was now playing at an impossible speed. 

Beads of sweat appeared on Neville's forehead as he forced his legs to keep up. He knew he could do it. Lee pressed every button in sight in a vain attempt to right his error. While Neville danced, mirrorballs appeared, streamers fell, fireworks went off at the front of the stage, coloured lights shone, a trashy dance beat was added, (Harry shuddered in the wings) banners dropped down at the back, and a white spotlight shone right on Neville's flying feet. There were only a few bars of the song left... at double speed the time had gone past very quickly. And he had done it! A spectacular finale had been provided by Lee, when the back of the stage rose up and a shower of glitter fell all over Neville. So what if the special effects for the end of the Pantomime had happened an act too early? He had triumphed - he had showed them! The faces in the audience were all admiring... Hermione, looking beautiful as usual, walked out of the wings and presented him with a bunch of roses she had conjured just seconds before. She kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "Thankyou for not ruining it!" Before disappearing offstage again. Only Draco looked sulky - he had been upstaged temporarily by his _assistant. _Never mind. He'd have his moment...

Neville could see his Grandmother in the audience. He was sad for a moment as he thought of how much his parents would have loved to see him dance... but they didn't even know who he was. His Gran and Great Uncle were on their feet, cheering wildly. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but it looked as though his Grandmother was _crying. _Neville sank into a huge, twirly bow. And ripped his trousers right along the seam of the crotch. Luckily, this fact was hidden from the audience, but Neville could hear the sound of muffled chuckling coming from the wings. He didn't care. Nothing could spoil this moment. And one face in the audience stood out particularly clearly... Ernie Macmillan, his one true love, was clapping him the hardest of them all.

Hermione was back on stage. This was the bit where Hagrid transformed her into a beautiful young lady (not that she wasn't already) and was one of the most visually impressive parts of the whole play, because it involved actual transfiguration and light manipulation. Hagrid had been given special permission to use magic, and Hermione had slipped a galleon into a Ravenclaw boy's pocket to get him to go and help Lee out in the special effects box. As much as she liked Lee, she wasn't about to let him ruin one of her favourite bits of the play through sheer ignorance. 

The audience fell into hushed silence. Justin Finch-Fletchley began a drum-roll. Hermione stood perfectly still as Hagrid raised the sparkly wand. _It even has a star on the end, _Hermione thought, concentrating on it so she could hide the fact that she was extremely nervous. If this went wrong, she could end up in her underwear in front of three thousand people and Hagrid. _Oh, dear God, _she thought frantically. Then, with a cymbal crash and a shower of glitter, it was over. Her hair was pulled up into an elegant chignon, her rags became a beautiful white gown covered with little diamonds, and her feet were incased in the excruciatingly tight glass slippers. Why they had to be the wrong size was a mystery. Couldn't she just make them fit? But it was too late for that now. She twirled around to show off the dress properly and the audience oohed and aaahed appropriately. Lee wolf-whistled from his elevated seat. Hermione guessed that this was because he could see down the front of her dress. She didn't care; it would give him something to think about and possibly distract him from interfering with the Ravenclaw boy's efforts with the Special Effects. 

Now it was time for the carriage. One of Hagrid's magnificently large pumpkins had been uprooted for the occasion. It descended from somewhere above the stage on silver rope. Hermione had to carefully sidestep it to avoid having it dumped on her head. She directed a scowl at the 'effects box' hoping that nobody had noticed the blunder. It wouldn't do to have the star of the show made to look like a fool. 

Seamus and Dean scurried on as rats (McGonagall had persuaded them to let her transfigure them) and Hagrid performed the simple reversal. Unfortunately, Dean still had whiskers. 

"What's the matter with you?" he muttered at Hagrid. "I've got a fuckin' tail!" Dean's microphone magnified his profanity so that it filled the hall. Hermione made frantic motions at him to try and make him stop. Several members of the audience were looking scandalised. "I'm not goin' anywhere until you get these fuckin' whiskers the fuck off my fuckin' face!" he yelled, even louder this time. McGonagall was looking thunderous. She mouthed to Lee "Do something!" 

It should have been simple. All he had to do was find the volume and turn it down. Only Lee didn't turn it _down. _He turned it _up. _

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO FUCKIN' REMOVE THE MOTHERFUCKING WHISKERS, YOU FUCKIN' RETARDED WANKER!" Dean looked delighted at the volume of his voice. He proceeded to try out his entire (and extensive) vocabulary of swear words at full volume. A scandalised McGonagall directed a jet of silvery light at him and turned him back into a rat. A huge cheer went up from the audience. Dean the Rat scurried offstage to applause from the whole of the Hogwarts student body. For some of them, it had been quite an education. 

Seamus had to be a lone coachman. He opened the door of the pumpkin-carriage and invited Hermione to step inside. 

"Your carriage awaits my lady they exit stage right the fairy godmother follows on the invisible harness." 

Hermione smiled wryly. _There was always one..._

The carriage (which still smelt vaguely of pumpkin) rolled off the stage as the audience got to their feet and applauded. Act One was over. The plush curtains descended and Hermione stepped gratefully into the wings.

*

During the Interval

The audience were all chattering excitedly in the Entrance Hall while they sipped drinks and nibbled at the excellent buffet. Hermione could see Dean who was looking heartily embarrassed as his mother showed him off to all of her friends as 'mummy's little angel' "Six OWLs... aren't you a clever little boy?" she ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Muuuuum! Fuck off!" Dean was more proud of the fact that he had been kicked out of the Pantomime in disgrace and screamed at by McGonagall.

"Shh, Dean dear. Not now," his mother said absently, turning back to her group of raucous friends. They seemed to be consuming an awful lot of alcohol. But then, they were muggles. That was what they did at public occasions.

Hermione pushed through the crowd. She was looking for Lee. He had disappeared from the 'effects box' and was nowhere to be seen. She really wanted to see him, so he could praise her spectacular performance and she could swan around on his arm. She noticed Angelina looking grumpy. _Hah. That bitch can't compete with me! _Hermione gloated. Then she spotted a very large, jostling crowd. Ah... Lee must be at the centre of it. She craned her neck... yes, there he was. She raised her voice and waved.

"Lee! Hi! I'm, like, here!"

"Yeah, in a minute, princess," Lee called back. 

So, he was giving her the brush-off. Fine. She would just sit here and wait for him. He'd soon remember what was more important. 

She waited. And waited. But Lee did not appear. Hermione couldn't believe it. How could he just ignore her like this? _I mean, sure, being mysterious is one thing, _she thought angrily, _but being a total wanker is quite another. _She looked over the crowd again. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. Lee was sitting with his arms around about six girls who were all hanging on to his every word. They kept giggling inanely and Lee appeared to be loving every minute of it. _They aren't even pretty, _Hermione fumed. _Just a bunch of cheap sluts. And **look **at that outfit! Could she show any more flesh? _The girl she was talking about was wearing a minuscule halterneck and hotpants that showed her flabby buttocks. _Eurgh, _Hermione thought. _That is totally gross! _

Perhaps it showed just how angry Hermione was that she had resorted to insulting the girl's clothes; she had worn an almost identical ensemble to the beach every day when she was in America. The difference was, she made it look like an outfit, not an artfully torn, tightfitting binbag.

She turned around and stormed off. However, her anger faded considerably when she remembered her plan for revenge. It was almost time... that blonde bitch was going down.

Suddenly, the crowd around Lee broke apart, and he came running towards her looking worried.

Ah, here he comes, Hermione thought, _crawling back. Well, it's not going to be that easy. Two can play at your game, mister. _But all hopes of 'playing it cool' vanished when Lee ran straight past her and scurried up the stairs to the special effects controls. Moments later, the lights dimmed and his voice boomed out,

"Will everyone please return to their seats for the second half of _Cinderella_!"

The chatter in the audience subsided as they made their way back to their seats. Hermione ran backstage and redid her hair for the song at the beginning of the second half. It was almost time for the ball... easily her favourite part of the play. She stood in the wings in front of a mirror, putting the silvery comb back into the top of her elegantly piled-up hair. Suddenly, there came terrible screaming from the audience. She rushed to the edge of the stage and peered out. An awful sight met her eyes. Blaise Zabini was running around the stage, utterly and completely naked. She couldn't help but stare. McGonagall, really looking murderous this time, came running out onto the stage brandishing a broom. She jabbed at him with it, but he just nimbly dodged her and ran down the centre aisle, giggling like a man possessed. McGonagall chased after him, still waving the broom in the air and shaking her fist. Hermione spotted Sirius at the back of the hall. He was laughing so hard he almost choked on his Cornetto ice-cream. He must have come to see Harry.

After the audience had returned to comparative quiet and several old ladies had been escorted from the room, Lee's voice could be heard again. 

"Would you please put your hands together for _Cinderella and the guests at the ball!_"

Hermione took this as her cue. Picking up the hem of her dress, she danced onstage as a cheerful waltz began to play. It was time to put her plan into action.

*

The band of lame 'hopeful princesses' danced around the stage with their dance partners. Hermione stood 'shyly' by the door, waiting for the prince to enter. At the right moment, the music stopped for an instant, and Draco came in from the other side of the stage. He'd made some changes to his outfit... were those _leather _pantaloons he was wearing? 

Draco wandered through the groups of girls on stage, pretending to survey them all and trying to ignore the whistles coming from his 'fans' in the audience. Luckily, he could exercise great self-control when he wanted to. He swaggered around in his ridiculous costume (it even had tassles on it) and then 'noticed' Cinderella on the other side of the stage. _Granger really does look hot, _he thought happily. _This is going to be fun..._

He stood face to face with her, and reached for her hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it delicately. Hermione felt a shiver go down her spine. _Revenge is going to be sweet, _she thought with a mixture of delight and malice. 

"It would be an honour if you would dance with me," he said softly.

"I'd love to," she purred. He put his hand on her waist and whirled her around. Lee turned the music back up and soft lights illuminated the Prince and Cinderella. The dance had been carefully choreographed to show them both off, and in costume they made a very good couple. 

Hermione moved herself closer to Draco, pressing herself against him. He moved his hand down so that it certainly wasn't resting on her _waist _anymore. She flashed him a smile which he returned mischievously. They both knew they were only making a show of it, but hell, it was going to be fun. 

The audience clapped in time with the music. The orchestra were on fine form. And the two lead roles were sizzling... they could tell this was going to be a show to remember. As Draco picked Hermione up and swung her off her feet, many people cheered. 

One person was deeply unhappy about the arrangements. Pansy was watching the display on stage in disgust. That was _her boyfriend. _And that Granger mudblood slut was _all over him. _It didn't occur to her for a moment that Draco didn't mind in the slightest. 

Ron, who was still sitting in the costume, was going through his lines.

"Moo. Nah, nah. Makes me sound too sad. MoooOOOOOOoooo. Nope, a bit melodramatic, but better. MOOO-AAAARRRRGGHHHHHHH!" Pansy had finally snapped. Ron was dragged backwards as the cow, bottom-first, charged through the beautifully painted backdrop and onto the stage. The back end of the cow started to yell obscene threats at Cinderella, who just laughed and pulled Draco into a deep and passionate kiss. When the audience cheered, Pansy ran in frenzied circles. Unable to see, she careened around in the hope that she would knock into them and break them apart. Ron, thinking quickly, stuck his arm out of the cow's mouth and grabbed onto the nearest piece of scenery; a wooden cutout that had been painted like a marble pillar. He held on for dear life as Pansy struggled to get free. She was kicking furiously, writhing and gnashing her teeth. "Let me go! Draco! Help me!" but Draco was in no position to reply. 

The pantomime cow's costume was breaking because of the immense strain in was being put under. The audience were laughing at the cow's capers. Hermione could hardly believe they still thought it was all part of the performance. McGonagall was looking faint. This wasn't how she'd intended it to be at all. 

"GRANGER, YOU CHEAP WHORE!" Pansy yelled. And with a last effort of superhuman strength, she made two things happen at once. Firstly, there was a sickening tearing sound as the costume totally ripped in half. The force of her struggles sent Pansy stumbling forward, dangerously near to the edge of the stage. Secondly, her head came bursting out of the cow's bottom, allowing her to see what was going on just seconds before she was teetering on the edge of the Orchestra Pit. She flailed madly to try and regain her balance, but to no avail. With a terrible screech, she toppled into the orchestra, landing headfirst and ruining Justin Finch Fletchley's second drumkit. The music stopped abruptly and the audience fell silent. 

In the effects box, Lee felt it was his job to break the awkward silence. He saw that there was a record player which already had a record conveniently in place. Locating the controls, he turned it on. Lee had always fancied himself as a bit of a DJ; it had always been a dream of his. He turned it up. Seconds before the music filled the hall, he remembered that some Ravenclaws had been listening to records in the interval. This meant that it was almost certainly not some of 'Mozart's finer works' but more likely some atrociously profane popular trash. His suspicions were confirmed when 

"WU-TANG CLAN AIN'T NOTHIN' TO FUCK WITH" came blaring out. He quickly whipped the record off and muttered "Bollocks" and then an apologetic 'sorry' to the audience. He had to find some music to put on... he flipped through the CDs. None of them were the right sort of thing at all. _Slipknot... no. Eminem... Limp Bizkit... Dr. DRE... S Club 7... were they kidding? Celine Dion... Buddy Holly... how did they get in there...? _

Hermione and Draco broke apart. She winked at him before looking around the stage. It was very hot all of a sudden... Ron shuffled offstage to rapturous applause, and she could see Hagrid lifting Pansy out of the Orchestra Pit. She noticed that Pansy's head was still stuck inside the largest of the drums. She pointed, and Draco laughed. She was quite surprised; she thought he would have been more protective of Pansy. She knew he actually really cared for her... _but we'll see how he feels after this, _she thought deviously. 

She leaned closer to Draco and whispered her idea into his ear. They had to keep things going while Lee found some music. Draco nodded and walked over to the large 'banqueting table' that had been set up. It was covered with silver tureens and fake food, all resting on a white table cloth. 

"Drumroll please!" She called. Justin Finch Fletchley did his best with what remained of his drum kit. Draco looked very nervous, he was deeply doubtful about how successful this would be. On the crash of the cymbal, Draco pulled the tablecloth as hard as he could. The cutlery, plates, and several plastic vol-au-vents went flying. Whipping out his wand (god knows where from) Draco made them stop in midair and sent them floating into a neat pile in the corner. The audience, who were loving every minute, cheered him wildly. He couldn't resist taking a bow. _Well, it had been quite impressive, _he reasoned. The leather pantaloons were very uncomfortable... but he supposed he should keep them on. _But then he couldn't dance in them..._ that settled it. He brought Hermione over to stand next to him, and she too pulled out her wand. Draco drew a circle around everyone on stage, and then muttered a few incantations. Hermione, realising what he was planning, joined in. Then they indicated that everyone should stand very still. Everyone on stage froze. The hall fell into hushed silence. Lee blacked out the lights. Draco whispered, 

"One, two, three, NOW!" and together, they sealed the spell. There were a few exclamations from cast members; some of the outfit changes must have been painful, especially for those who had been forced into tight trousers. 

Lee was panicking. With the lights blacked out, he couldn't see anything. He'd just have to take a chance. He grabbed a CD from the pile and shoved it in the player, praying that it wasn't '_The Best of KoRn' _or '_Des O'Connor sings your favourite Xmas Carols.'_

The CD Lee had selected began to play; it was 'Can't Fight the Moonlight.' It seemed that wizards had similar musical tastes to muggles. Hermione had seen (and loved) the film _Coyote Ugly _over the Autumn Break, and had been practising her dance routines in secret ever since. _Table dancing, _she thought, _is what I was made for._

The lights were brought back up again. The entire cast had undergone a dramatic change. They were all wearing scanty outfits. _The amount of leather used must have wiped out an entire cattle ranch_, Hermione thought a little guiltily. She glanced over at Draco. Then she stared. Her jaw dropped. Then she looked down at herself. _OK, so she looked pretty stunning too... but it was the first time she'd ever felt she might not look quite as good as anyone in the near vicinity. _Draco's trousers were so tight that if she hadn't known better, she would have thought he'd just dyed his legs black. He was barechested save for a tiny black waistcoat which had his name emblazoned on the back in studs. 

If Hermione had been embarrassed at showing herself off, she certainly would have blushed when she surveyed her outfit. Luckily, her policy was more 'if you've got it, flaunt it.' On first viewing, she thought she was wearing a very attractive leather belt. Then she realised it was a skirt. Long boots came up to her thighs (Draco was sporting an identical pair) and her top was a bikini style affair. Flicking her hair behind her, she grabbed Draco's hand and dragged him onto the table. 

The music blared out of the magical speakers. _If Pansy was jealous before, _Hermione thought, unable to repress a huge smile, _I'd hate to see her now. _The blond girl had luckily been knocked out by the force of her collision with the drumkit. Together, they executed a series of fairly impressive gymnastics. Hermione ran her hands over Draco's bare chest. He responded by removing his waistcoat, whirling it around his head and then throwing it into the audience. He caused a minor fight in the audience between a group of salivating girls all eager to keep the only bit of Draco they would ever get their hands on.

Hermione put every bit of effort she had into her performance. She was a born exhibitionist. Several men in the audience were forced to leave for reasons best kept to themselves. She noticed Sirius looking at her admiringly. If his jaw could have dropped any further it would have been resting on his knees. Draco looked as though he might have been about to remove his trousers. Not that Hermione would have particularly minded, but she _really _didn't think McGonagall would like it. Now she was _very _glad her parents weren't there. The music reached a dramatic last chorus. Hermione knew she had to distract Draco. She dropped to her knees, giving him a clear view straight down her top. He froze in position with one arm pointing into the air and the other on his hip. _Which was strangely convenient, _mused Hermione. With one last shake of her hair, she arched her back and tipped her head up to look straight at the audience. _Well, if that wasn't a dramatic finale, I'd like to see what is, _she thought triumphantly. The audience were all on their feet as the music stopped and the clock struck twelve. She turned and fixed Draco with a long, lingering look, smiled in the most disarming manner possible, and then hurried away. She had just got offstage when she realised she was still wearing both... er, boots. She had forgotten that she was supposed to leave a _glass slipper _and not a hefty platform boot. Oh, well. She ran back on, unzipping one of the shoes and placing it carefully in its proper place centre stage. She couldn't just _leave... _that would be a _total _anticlimax. 

Slowly and deliberately, she climbed back onto the table where Draco was still standing as though paralysed, a vague smile still on his face. She stepped up to him and kissed him gently. It took him a few seconds to respond, but when he did, he was more than enthusiastic. She melted into his arms and ran her hands down his bare back. Her knees felt weak. There was enough chemistry between them to support a nuclear power plant for several days. His hands on her bare skin were electric. She ran her bare foot up his leg and she felt him tremble in her arms. She didn't want to _overdo _it... better to leave him wanting more. Tantalisingly, she pulled away, and in the blink of an eye she had vanished. Draco stood for a moment before swaying on his feet and collapsing as his knees finally gave way.

*

Draco had got to his feet. Now the music had stopped, he noticed that he squeaked when he walked. _These trousers must really be tight._ He 'found' the boot and was about to pick it up when he realised that bending over was a scientific impossibility without causing himself grave injury. _He was stuck. What should he do? _He paused in indecision. _Hell, he was a prince, wasn't he? Surely there were people who were paid to do his bidding?_

"Slave?" He called to nobody in particular. "Slave! Pick up this boot. I'm a prince, it's about time you started acting like it!" Luckily he was used to being imperious. Some lame Hufflepuff scurried forward to obey him. The boy scooped up the shoe and handed it to Draco, bowed, and scurried off again. Draco vowed to find its beautiful owner, made a few declarations of his undying love for Cinderella and then finally exited the stage. _At last he could get out of these trousers. _Not that he was going to give them back to the costumes department; who knew when they might come in handy again?

*

Next, it was time for Hagrid's _piece de resistance_; the Fairy Godmother's main scene. The orchestra were back on form now that the drumkit had been replaced yet again and they struck up a jaunty accompaniment. Hagrid began the dance he had spent weeks learning and launched into the song. He was a dreadful singer but the audience were past caring. They were now in the delightful stage where everything deserved applause or laughter. This part was supposed to be a comedy, and Hagrid was actually doing well. Halfway through the song, it was time for the 'chorus' to come in. The chorus was made up of all the girls who were considered too talentless to have parts, but still wanted to join in. They warbled and stumbled their way through the dance and the simple musical part. They didn't make too many mistakes, and managed to get to the end of the song without anything dreadful happening. Now it was the moment for Hagrid's dramatic departure. He was going to ascend up to heaven, his work on Earth being done. He was wearing an invisible harness which was attached to a rope. In the effects box, Lee pushed the button which would start the winching process. Hagrid pointed his wand in the air as he was lifted off the ground in a shower of glitter. Lee was amazed; it went smoothly. Hagrid waved energetically at the audience, who all waved back. He was ten... twenty feet above the stage... all the 'little faeries' were looking up at him... this had been the best performance he'd ever done in forty-eight years of being in Hogwarts pantomimes. 

Everyone watched as Hagrid's enormous form disappeared off of the top of the stage. 

McGonagall couldn't believe it. This was the first time they'd tried using muggle techniques for special effects, and she'd been more than a little dubious at first. Especially for somebody who weighed as much as Hagrid, it was a miracle that it had worked. Then she remembered. She was a seventy-year old realist who knew for a fact (and through bitter personal experience) that miracles don't happen.

A horrible twanging noise could be heard as one by one, the fibres of the nylon rope snapped under Hagrid's enormous weight. There was a collective gasp as three thousand five hundred and fifty nine people winced and waited for the inevitable. The three thousand five hundred and sixtieth person let out a terrible, blood-curdling yell as he plummeted forty feet from the rafters of the Great Hall. One face looked up directly at Hagrid. Paralysed with fright and overwhelmed by the thought that Hagrid's voluminous underwear was very likely to be the last thing she ever saw, Hannah Abbot could do nothing but watch as Hagrid's 800lb bulk knocked her senseless.

Sirius couldn't help it. He laughed. After a moment's horrified silence, so did the rest of the spectators. As trained medi-wizards rushed to try and save Hannah, the Hall was filled with the sound of three thousand people who had never seen anything quite so funny.

McGonagall dispatched the stage hands to fix the large dent in the floorboards of the stage while briefing Harry, Ron and a heavily sedated Pansy on their next piece of improvisation. 

The cow costume had been very hastily and poorly repaired with copious amounts of blue wool, and Ron had finally accepted a bribe to go back inside it with Pansy. Harry, as Buttons, was going to ride the cow around the stage while the chaos was restored to comparative order. The cow was supposed to be telling jokes to fill time, so both Ron and Pansy had microphones on. Pansy protested at first when she was told Harry would be sitting on her head, but then the sedatives kicked in and she fell into submissive silence. 

The cow marched onstage doing the comedy walk they'd been taught. Harry struggled to hold on. He kept being bumped around, and grabbed onto the nearest handhold. It was Pansy's face. 

"Ow!" she squealed. Many of the audience held their ears. Pansy screeching at a high volume had been known to cause temporary deafness.

Ron told a 'knock, knock' joke which raised a feeble laugh. The second one he told only raised a laugh from Lee, who thought he'd said something else. 

The third, ('A wizard walked into a bar, right? He said ouch.') made several people wince. Ron's comic timing was abysmal. Deathly silence filled the room. _Crap. I totally bombed, _Ron thought desperately. _Now nobody's gonna laugh._

He thought wrong. Harry chose that moment to break wind. Very noisily. Right next to Pansy's microphone. Everyone's heads flew up as they tried to work out who had made the repulsive noise. Harry blushed a deep shade of crimson and sincerely hoped that their benign audience would assume _this _was all part of the play as well. He _knew _he shouldn't have eaten the sweet that Fred offered him just before he came onstage. 

"Eeeuuurgh!" Pansy wailed sadly, "Potter farted on my head!"

A huge roar of laughter went up from everyone watching. McGonagall, keen to steer away from the toilet humour, indicated that they should come offstage. Harry did so very obligingly. He received a standing ovation for ending Ron's terrible series of jokes, but even that couldn't cheer him up. He'd never live it down.

*

Draco made a half-hearted attempt to fit Goyle's overlarge foot into the platform boot before shaking his head and calling up the next person from the list. 

Finally it was Hermione's turn. She stepped forward demurely and sat down on the tiny chair. She slipped her small foot into the boot and was about to zip it up when Draco moved her hand away. From the sparkle in his eyes, she could tell he was up to something. 

He started to zip up the boot himself, sliding his hand so far along her bare leg that she could feel his hand on the lace hem of her knickers. McGonagall looked as though she was about to explode, so Hermione just gave Draco a playful slap on the wrist and finished zipping up the boot herself. Now was the time for the 'official' kiss. As McGonagall was still having paroxysms of rage, Hermione decided to 'kiss by the book,' keeping the tongue use to an absolute minimum (much to Draco's disappointment.) This seemed to appease the Professor slightly. Hermione took Draco's hand and led him offstage as all around them, the scenery changed. The stage revolved so that they were inside the palace, which was bedecked with flowers and was made to look like a church. Ginny came on wearing her vicar's gown and opened her service book. She made her speech which occupied the time in which Draco and Hermione had to do a rapid costume change. The palace doors were thrown open and two trumpeters announced the arrival of the bride and groom. Draco was wearing a tuxedo and on his arm came Hermione, who was glowing as her bridal gown flowed behind her. Two first years were carrying the 'train' of the dress and a cute little Ravenclaw had been persuaded to act as pageboy. It was very fetching. As the lovers made their vows, confetti fell from the enchanted ceiling and many of those watching had to fight back tears ( though some were of sheer jealousy.) The entire cast crammed onto the stage and launched enthusiastically into the closing song. Lee was in his element, pressing every button and making a multitude of glorious effects all take place at once. Glitter, confetti, streamers, coloured lights, spotlights and fireworks filled the hall as the audience got to their feet for the last chorus. Everyone joined in; Sirius was even doing some of the hand actions. Much stamping of feet called for an encore, so the orchestra launched into 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas.' 

Overflowing with happiness, Hermione clutched Draco's arm and smiled up at him. He had been the perfect Prince Charming and she told him so. He was grinning all over his face, and returned the compliment with a comment that was just as flattering though not so respectable. 

Everyone held hands in a line as magical snow fell from the ceiling. The singing reached a crescendo and even McGonagall could be seen joining in, albeit in the wings. Tumultuous applause, cheering, whooping, whistling and shouting threatened to bring down the roof. When Lee had finally managed to restore something that resembled quiet, he began to turn the spotlight on every cast member in turn, from the lowliest, lamest Hufflepuffs, through the supporting cast, and then all the people behind the scenes; the faithful yet nameless Ravenclaw boys, the stage managers and then himself. 

"And lets all give a big hand for the guy who made it all happen... me!"

Amidst the cheering, Fred and George could be heard yelling their support.

"Yeah, Lee! You fuckin' rule!" 

All the Weasleys in the audience leapt onto their seats when Ron's name was called; blushing furiously, he was finally allowed out of his cow costume to take his bow. 

Hermione and Draco were using the darkness to their advantage by indulging in a prodigious make-out session which gained admiring glances from several nearby onlookers. They were rudely interrupted when Lee swung the spotlight round to illuminate them. Hermione hurriedly straightened her tiara and hitched up her slipping dress (it _was _shoulderless) before taking her first of several bows. Draco had his own group of fans, who were all screaming for him from their front-row seats. Still holding hands, they continued to bow and wave until the clapping died away. Feeling that this would be the appropriate moment for a speech, Draco opened his mouth. But he wasn't quick enough - Hermione got there first. 

"I'd like to say thankyou to all the people who made this wonderful evening a night to remember and so very, very special," she gushed. She continued in this way for several minutes. The audience cheered at all the appropriate moments, and whenever Hermione paused for a breath, Draco managed to nod and say 'yeah' before she was off again. 

"We love you all for being such a fantastic audience," (cheering) "and we're so glad you enjoyed the evening. But none of this could have happened without the support, guidance and effort given by our wonderful director!" 

In the wings, McGonagall made a mental note to make Hermione Head Girl at the first opportunity. All thoughts of detention for 'indecent exposure' vanished from her head as she walked out onto the stage. The hall fell respectfully silent. Behind her back, Hermione magicked a huge bouquet of roses. 

"Professor, I have to tell you how-"

"Miss Granger, you have said quite enough for yourself for the moment." Minerva's voice was frosty. Shocked, Hermione fell silent. Suddenly, the roses seemed mightily inappropriate. 

"To all those involved with this _disaster _of a production, I would like to say this."

All eyes were fixed on her in disbelief.

"You have taken several weeks of my time. You have used, wasted and _damaged _a large number of the school's valuable resources. I have never before seen a bigger or more public display of the lack of morals in today's youth. You have broken the chain in a long line of fine Hogwarts pantomimes. And for all this," she looked around the silent room,

"I want to thank you for the most wonderful evening of my life." And she smiled. Hermione presented her with the flowers, beaming, and hugged her Professor. Those who were not already standing on their chairs stood there now, ready to scream their lungs out. But McGonagall waved for silence. 

"Such brilliant performances I have never seen. Such ability to cope under pressure I have not seen in people three times the age. This is truly a triumph for Hogwarts..." 

Lee sat in the effects box, bored. All this mushy business wasn't his kind of thing. He'd already pressed all of the buttons, and was now left with nothing to do.

"Get on with it," he muttered. McGonagall wasn't showing any signs of holding off. 

He was actually going to miss this place... he looked down at the controls once more. Then he spotted it... a tiny switch he hadn't noticed before, marked 

Do Not Press. Highly Dangerous. Trapdoor. 

"Cool!" he whispered. He scanned the stage, searching for the outline of the trapdoor he knew must be there. It couldn't have been better placed. It was right under the feet of... Draco. The blond boy was still arm in arm with Hermione. As Lee watched, he pulled her too him for another lingering kiss. Something clicked inside Lee's head. The play was over. Hermione's attraction to Draco, however, was obviously not. 

"Hang on. That Johnny is jonesin' with my girl! I should kick his arse into the middle of next Wednesday!" 

Lee looked angrily at Draco. The time was ripe...

"Show's over, pretty boy!" And he pressed the button. 

"...and it really has been wonderful." McGonagall was crying with emotion. Through her sniffles, she came to the last sentence of the speech.

"I've said it before *sob* and I'll say it again. *Sniff* This really has been the best, most fulfilling night of my li-AAAARRRRGGGHHHH!"

McGonagall disappeared out of sight. Lee stared in horror as he realised what had happened. Draco was on the disused trapdoor. (_Still jonesin' with my girl, _he thought with annoyance.) McGonagall had fallen _through _the trapdoor he had opened. Oh, shit.

"I think it's all over," he moaned in horror. The microphone was on; everyone heard his words.

McGonagall emerged, tears gone from her eyes which were flashing dangerously in Lee's direction. She was covered in dust, and trailing behind her was what looked like half of the 'Aladdin' scenery from last year and part of a Chinese dragon. 

"JORDAN!"

Lee had no choice but to run for it. Oh, well. It had been a fun evening while it lasted.

His last words were to go down in Hogwarts history.

"It is now!"

***

End of Part Three

End of the Autumn Term 

A/N: Well, that was the Autumn Term. If you haven't already, could you please, please PLEASE review us? We really want to hear your opinions on this. We are already planning the next two terms and they will be posted here as soon as we can finish them. There is still time for appropriate suggestions to be incorporated. Your opinions count for a lot! We want to write something that people want to read (people other than ourselves, that is.) So just take a minute to tell us what you think. Constructive criticisms welcome, praise even moreso. hehe. Okay, well... we really, really hope you enjoyed reading this so far. See you for the Summer Term! Aurora and Drosera, 8th March 2001.


	4. Disorders, Dark Arts and Debauchery

Generation X  ****

Generation X - Spring Term

Part Four - Disorders, Dark Arts and Debauchery

A/N: Well, part four is finally done! Now we are posting chapter by chapter, the other two parts of the Spring Term shouldn't take too long to appear. Sorry for the wait... we hope the result was worth it. ****

Please, please tell us what you think - your comments are always appreciated! R/R and we'll love you forever. Yours, Aurora and Drosera. ^_~

"What're yer on about, mate?"

"What am I on about?!? The bloody thing nearly ripped my dick off!"

"Sorry, mate. No refunds. Now piss off, ya little twat."

A diminutive boy scuttled away from Lee Jordan looking angry and close to tears. 

"Lee, like, what was _that _all about?" Hermione asked, half-running over the lawns towards him. She was wearing a pale green dress and with the spring sunlight on her hair she looked very pretty. 

"Nothing, love!" Lee said quickly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Bloody second years, honestly," he started, feeling some explanation would be appropriate. "Don't know what he was-"

"And _what _'nearly ripped his dick off'?" she cut in accusingly, raising a slim eyebrow.

"Makes yer sick, dunnit? What are some people _like? _I'm just walkin' along, right? Mindin' me own business, and that little... little shite, 'e comes runnin' over and starts tellin' me this sordid story. Nothing to do with me, princess," he added swiftly.

Hermione shook her head in an 'I don't want to know' kind of way. If Lee wanted to go on being secretive, that was his lookout. All she had to worry about was that she didn't have a date for Saturday night and Lee would probably love to go with her to The Three Broomsticks for a romantic meal. If it turned out anything like their _last _dinner date had done, she was in for an interesting weekend. Linking her arm through his, she started walking with him back to the castle, preparing herself for another long hour listening to him bore her to tears about the joys of Quidditch Commentary. 

*

"Go on, Pansy. Go on... put it in your mouth."

"Draco, I don't _want _to!" she whined petulantly. 

"Oh, come on! You'll enjoy it if you try it!"

"You can't make me! I won't eat that stuff! I don't even _like _rice cakes! They taste of nothing!"

Draco sighed. "Not even if I break it up into little teeny pieces?" 

"No." And Pansy folded her arms defiantly. 

"You've got to eat! Don't you understand? You'll starve!"

"If you keep insisting on stuffing me full of these revolting, fatty, monosodium glutamated, high-cholestrol snacks, I'll _never _fit in to my new dress-robes!"

"Pansy, they're only _rice cakes_!" Draco pleaded. "Look at the packet. No fat, no flavouring, no taste. They're not going to hurt you." He knew much better than to suggest that maybe she shouldn't have bought the smallest size of robes. They didn't look like they'd fit a stick insect on famine relief. And they had cost him a very large sum of money. But he'd do anything to keep Pansy happy. She was, after all, his favourite and most expensive mistake. 

"Are you going to spoil the whole evening by force-feeding me?" Pansy whined, interrupting his thoughts. "This is booorrriiiiing!"

"If you'd just eat, we could do something more interesting!" Draco explained wearily. 

"What, you mean like..." Pansy grinned. Draco nodded. 

"But first, you have to eat."

Pansy lay back on her bright pink bedspread, and closed her eyes. 

"Feed me, Draco," she said, and in an effort to try and ask him nicely, even added a "please?".

__

How could he refuse when she asked him like that? At least she had agreed to eat. Breaking off a tiny bit of rice cake, he leant over her and popped it into her mouth. 

*

The classroom slowly began to fill with Gryffindor students as the first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of the term began. A replacement for the last teacher had finally been found, and Harry and Ron were eagerly awaiting the arrival of the mystery professor. After a brief argument between the boys over who would get to sit next to Hermione, they took two seats near the back of the class. 

A few moments later, the door opened. All eyes turned expectantly to the front of the class. But to their surprise, not one, but three people walked in. And they were a very strange collection of people. Two men, both in pinstriped suits and bowler hats, escorted an extremely attractive young lady into the room. She looked about seventeen, and smiled nervously at the class from where she was standing at the front. Several of the males in the group smiled very enthusiastically back, and even Hermione thought she looked friendly, in an innocent sort of way. She didn't look like she'd be much competition, so therefore Hermione didn't hate her too much, yet. Hermione flashed her a blinding smile and indicated that in a moment the new girl should take the seat next to her. _It never hurts to weigh up your opponent..._

The two men in suits waved for silence in the room, which was buzzing with chatter. One of them was almost superhumanly tall, and very thin. The other, rather comically, was rounded and very short. They were dressed identically, and both sported thin toothbrush moustaches. Hermione almost giggled when they began to speak. Their accents were very strange, and hard to place. The short man spoke first.

"My name is Boris Rottinoff and I am one of your new - how do you say - Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers." 

"I am Professor Rottinoff's colleague, Horace Latchkopf. I am your _other _Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." This was all he said to the class for the rest of the lesson. 

Professor Rottinoff placed his hands on the new girl's shoulders and turned to the class.

"This girl will be joining your class for the rest of the year," he said. "Her name is -" he looked down at a small piece of paper on the desk in front of him, "Cammy G. Mirlinu, and she is a student from..." he looked at the paper again, "Peru." At this, he quickly looked at Horace, who grimaced and nodded. Cammy came and took the empty seat next to Hermione. 

Boris hurreidly gave them some work to do out of their textbooks, and then retreated into a corner where he conversed frantically but quietly with Horace. Hermione, who had finished the work, turned to the new girl and spoke to her for the first time.

"Do you, like, know those men?"

"Ah - no. They bring me here. They very strange - but know them? No, I no know them." The girl was very quiet, and Hermione felt reassured. She had nothing to worry about.

Despite Hermione's opinion, a lot of people came over to introduce themselves. Cammy spoke to them all in her quiet and polite way. Her English, after its initial shaky start, was much better than Hermione had first thought. 

Bored, Hermione looked over at the two new professors. It was very unusual for a class to be split between two teachers like this. And they really were _very _odd. They both had black hair, which was slicked into a greasy side-parting. _They even parted their hair on the same side,_ Hermione marvelled, staring at them. What were they talking about that was so important anyway? Oh, well. They had to be better than Professor Binns, who had been filling in for the previous term. And they would certainly make Defense Against the Dark Arts classes more interesting.

*

Hermione came out of the class scowling. Despite her initial ideas, everyone seemed to love Cammy Mirlinu. _What kind of name is that, anyway? _Hermione fumed, scuffing her platform sandals on the stone floor as she skulked down the corridor. Staring down at the floor, she walked headlong into Dean, who was hurrying in the other direction. The loose sheets of paper he was carrying fluttered to the floor.

"Watch it, ya whore!" Dean spat, shoving past her and bending down to retrieve the paper.

"Dean! What was _that _for?!?" Hermione said in indignant disbelief.

"Oh, God, sorry Hermione!" Dean said, blushing. "Didn't see it was you." And he started to shuffle away. Oh, great. Was she _totally _invisible? The way things were going, her day couldn't get much worse. Spying something on the floor, Hermione picked it up. Dean must have dropped it. 

"Dean? Dean! You dropped your piece of..." she broke off as she looked at what was _on _the paper. It was certainly very... graphic. Dean snatched it away, blushing an even more furious shade of crimson.

"That's either so intellectual I don't understand it," Hermione said, "or so disgusting, I don't even want to _think _about it!" 

Hermione shook her head. This day just kept on getting weirder. It wasn't really that her male friends were into pornography that bothered her... she'd known for some time, since she found a load of _Playwizard_s under Harry's mattress. Oh, no. What really got to her was the fact that the drawing Dean had dropped had borne a striking resemblance to-

*

"Lavender!" Parvati called. "Lavender, come and see Ranjit!" Lavender hurried over, already oohing and aahing about the tiny newborn baby. 

"Oh, Pav, he's so sweet! What cute little hands! And what lovely dark eyes he has!" Parvati nodded, beaming. 

"I couldn't have asked for a more lovely blessing," Parvati gushed, neglecting to mention that the 'adorable' Ranjit had just thrown up all over her favourite dress robes. Twice. Lavender stayed to admire the new arrival for a few more minutes before leaving to attend her next class. Parvati was alone again. Sighing, she looked down at Ranjit. How could she bear to give him up? He would have to go and live with her parents. They wouldn't even tell him he was hers. That was the condition on which they had agreed to take the responsibility. She lifted Ranjit back up onto her shoulder and carried him back to the hospital wing, where she layed him in his cradle. Then she sunk back onto her bed, utterly dejected. Madam Pomfrey bustled over and put a hand on her forehead. 

"Are you feeling alright, dear?" she asked. Parvati nodded and sat up a little. 

"By the way," Madam Pomfrey said, smiling. "These arrived for you today." She handed Parvati a small bunch of slightly mouldering dandelions. They were tied up with a shoelace and attatched to them was a card. Parvati turned it over, her hand trembling. In spidery, almost illegible handwriting, she could just make out a word. Parvati read it and smiled, closing her eyes as she lay back on the pillows. Her hand closed around the tiny piece of paper, which simply read,

'Blaise.'

*

Hannah tightened her flabby fingers around the barre as she executed another wobbly plie. Her legs quivered with effort as she shifted her enormous weight across the floor. Now for the pirouette. She picked up a bit of speed to aid her momentum. Tottering across the floor, she raised herself up onto tiptoes and began to turn. Slowly, the laws of physics caught up with her. Twenty stone supported on one podgy big toe = disaster. Her foot buckled underneath her and she collapsed into a fat heap. Tears of despair and dismay cascaded down her cheeks as she tried and failed to get to her feet. And she'd locked to door to stop herself being discovered. She tried again to stand up. She got halfway, then fell back down again. Weakly, she called out.

"Help? Anyone, please? Help! HELP! **HELP ME!"**

*

Dean walked past the empty charms classroom, still a little red in the face after his 'run-in' with Hermione. From inside the classroom he heard plaintive wailing. Pushing the door, he found it to be locked. A swift unlocking charm soon remedied this, and he cautiously stepped into the room. The sound was coming from a huge pile of tulle, silk, ribbon and lace heaped in the middle of the room. He prodded it, and was more than a little alarmed when it spoke.

"AARRRGGH! Who are you? What are you doing? THAT'S MY FACE!" Dean backed away hurriedly, and was halfway out the door when he was called back.

"Oh, is that you, Dean? Sorry, sorry. No, please! Come back!" 

"What the fuck- I mean, who are you then? Ya bitch," Dean added, shutting the door behind him as he re-entered the room. 

"Hannah," the lump of material spoke. "Hannah Abbot. You know, in Hufflepuff?" 

"Makes sense," Dean muttered. "What the fuck are you doing in here? Sad bitch."

"Nothing! It doesn't matter. Just please... help me up?"

Dean walked around her. "Why should I?" he asked. "I mean, what's in it for me?" 

"I'll give you money - five galleons? Anything! Just please, _please _don't tell anyone?" 

"Tell anyone _what? _You haven't even fuckin' told me what the fuck you were up to in here... wearing _that._" Dean looked at the tutu in disgust. "Pokin' yerself, probly," he muttered to himself. 

"Okay, okay. I was doing - I was practising my ballet. There. Happy now?" Dean was more than happy. He was grinning all over his face. Luckily he was standing in a position where Hannah couldn't see him. Whipping out his sketchbook, he did a quick caricature to help him think. Then he reached a decision. 

"Done." 

Several inept 'weightlessness' charms and a levitation spell later, Hannah was on her feet. 

"Thankyou Dean! I can't thank you enough! Here!" and she tipped five Galleons into his hand. 

"Don't fuckin' mention it, mate," he said, grinning and striding away.

*

Warm, soapy water washed over Harry's hands as he plunged the sponge back into the bucket. This was his eighth night in a row of cleaning the prefects' bathroom, and every time the task got more and more tedious. Not to mention the fact that someone had left the pink bubble-bath tap running and it had gone all over the tiles _again. _He was just trying to get some particularly stubborn strands of hair from out of the plughole of the bath when the door opened. Cho walked in, wearing an indecently short bathrobe. 

Harry gulped.

"What are you doing here?" he yelped.

"Aren't you pleased to see me?" Cho purred.

"Well, yes, but... how did you get out of detention?"

"McGonagall's ill. I just abused my powers as head girl to get some first-year doing the detention for me. I'll get in trouble tomorrow, but... I know it'll be worth it."

Harry gulped again. 

"Okay, but I haven't finished cleaning up yet," Harry soldiered on, trying to ignore the fact that Cho was untying the belt of her towelling robe. "Er, Cho? Could you pass me that fanny? - I mean flannel!" Harry blushed. Cho just grinned. 

"Don't be ashamed, Harry. I want you. Can't you see that? Now stop wasting time!" Cho dimmed the lights, locking the door and starting the warm water running into the bath. Things looked bad for Harry. How could he get away without sounding like a total wimp? He was amazed Cho was still interested - who knew whether she would be if they were interrupted for a third time? Harry rather hoped they would be. He didn't feel like explaining his feelings of inadequacy to Cho, when she was so... distractingly beautiful herself. Harry let his eyes linger on Cho as she stepped into the water. Wisps of steam were rising from the surface, on which little silver bubbles were forming. It couldn't have looked more inviting. But Harry was scared. 

"Er, Cho? I-"

"Shh! Harry, come here." Harry couldn't stop himself walking over to the bath. Cho untied the belt of his robes, pulling the material off of his bare shoulders and exposing his upper half. She ran her fingers over his chest, kissing his neck. Harry felt his resolve crumbling around him. 

Suddenly, Cho pulled hard on the front of his robes and he went flying into the water. Giggling, she watched as he spluttered to the surface. Harry kicked his way out of the bottom half of his robes, but couldn't manage to remove his socks. Oh, well. Now was the time. He had to face his fears...

*

Neville took Ernie's hand as they walked down the charms corridor. They were deep in conversation, and both laughed when Ernie told a joke that was not entirely appropriate. They rounded the corner and almost walked headlong into Professor McGonagall. They dropped hands quickly, but not quickly enough for it to pass the stern teacher by. She regarded them sharply, her beady eyes looking from one round face to the other. 

"There'll be no more of that in this castle, thankyou boys. You've both lost your houses fifty points each."

Neville and Ernie looked at each other, gobsmacked. Professor McGonagall was old, and therefore couldn't help being a bit prejudiced, but this was ridiculous. 

"Professor, that's incredibly unfair. I could sue you for discrimination." Ernie protested.

Neville looked at his boyfriend admiringly. He really sounded tough. 

"Look, you stupid little bender. I know what people like you get up to and I think it's _disgusting! _And Longbottom, I really don't believe your Grandmother would be particularly happy if I told her about your little... transgression, would she?"

Neville quailed. He hadn't been planning on telling his strict grandmother. And what was happening to McGonagall? She was trembling, her face very pale.

"How dare you? In this school? It's a disgrace... a travesty!" Ernie looked more worried than angry now. 

"I think she's having a seizure!" he muttered to Neville. It certainly looked as though something was wrong. Her limbs were shaking very violently. Ernie reached out a tentative hand to steady her, but a crisp, sharp voice interrupted him.

"Don't touch it!" It was Professor McGonagall. She stood at the top of the corridor, looking horrified and extremely angry. Neville and Ernie looked at her, then back to the other professor, confusion and terror on their faces. 

"What - who -?" 

"Get away from it. Quickly." The new McGonagall commanded. They started to back away, but then-

"Don't listen to her, you fools! I'm the real McGonagall!" the other one shouted.

"She isn't! Don't let it trick you!"

The two boys hovered indecisively between the two identical figures. It was impossible to tell which was the real one, except that one of them had just insulted them in a most un-McGonagall-like fashion and was trembling on the floor. This steeled them to run up the corridor to the more recently-arrived teacher. Luckily, their suspicions were confirmed when the McGonagall on the floor let out a guttural, blood-curdling yell and split horribly out of her skin. 

"AAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH!" Neville and Ernie let out identical screams of terror as the slimy..._thing_ started to crawl towards them. The real McGonagall whipped out her wand and started cursing the creature.

"Neville, go and get Professors Latchkopf and Rottinoff! This is their area of expertise." With a last look at Ernie, Neville sprinted away.

*

"You've got to come quickly!" Neville gasped as he burst into the Dark Arts classroom. Horace and Boris looked up from the pile of papers they were examining and hurreidly stuffed them back into their identical black briefcases before jumping to their feet.

"Vot? Vot is vong?" their accents were stronger in their surprise. But they did not seem too ruffled as they hastily reached for their wands and followed Neville out of the classroom. 

"She wasn't - she wasn't real! We thought she was, but she wasn't! She's a monster!" Neville managed while tearing down a steep staircase. 

"Ah!" Horace exclaimed. "We haff been expecting this for a long time."

"You have?" Neville said as he screeched to a halt behind McGonagall who was still battling the horrific creature. Behind him, Horace and Boris rounded the corner and stopped short, staring at the black, slime-covered shape that was writhing and slithering on the floor. 

"Not vot we vere expecting!" Boris yelled as the monster started to spit an acidic green 

solution in their general direction. He sounded almost... disappointed. 

"Help me!" McGonagall yelled. "I don't know how to kill it. I don't even know what it is!"

Horace and Boris looked at each other despairingly. Then they slowly pulled out their wands and stood facing the monster. 

"Incendio!" they shouted in unison. The black, slithering thing burst into crimson flames, screeching horribly. But after almost a minute of screeching, it was still not dead. Indeed, it seemed to have grown in size and its anger had intensified considerably. The atmosphere had become one of utter panic and confusion. Jinxes and curses were being hurled at the monster, none of which seemed to be working. Pressing himself as far back against the wall as he could, Neville linked his arm with Ernie's and they stood, wands raised, waiting for the worst.

*

"So you're enjoying Hogwarts?" Lavender asked Cammy as they wandered out of the changing rooms. It turned out that Cammy was an excellent Quidditch player, though fairly incompetent in all academic subjects. 

"Oh, yes! I have fun here. It is a very nice, friendly school. I wish I could attend here all of the time." The peruvian student said enthusiastically. 

"Can we go down here?" Lavender asked, "I need to redo my make-up and there's a little bathroom down this corridor." Cammy nodded and they turned down a side passage. They were just at the door to the bathroom when they heard a loud shout. 

"What on earth-?" Lavender shreiked. Cammy took off, darting down the corridor and round the corner. She took one look at the flaming, screeching beast before grabbing Neville's wand and rushing forwards with a cry of

"Leave it to me!"

Everyone looked quite happy to do so. She started towards the creature, already chanting some complicated incantations in peruvian. Horace and Boris were looking at her in astonishment. Her chanting grew more frenzied, the creature turning its ugly head to stare at her. 

"Oh my God!" Laveder squeaked. Cammy was shouting now, and her irises had gone pure white. Electricity or something resembling it was crackling around her, forming into a ball in her outstretched palms. Neville dug his nails into Ernie's arm. Everyone watching was tense and pale. Then Cammy raised her arms above her head and flung the sphere as hard as she could at the beast. It reared and screamed horribly before disintegrating into a heap of ashes at Cammy's feet. 

*

"I've, like, never seen anything so pathetic in my life!" Hermione scorned untruthfully. She had arrived just in time to catch the end of Cammy's heroics and it seemed she was the only one who wasn't impressed. 

"Oh, come on Hermione. You're just jealous 'cause you couldn't have done it!" Ron said gleefully. She sent a death stare in his direction. 

"Honestly. I mean, it was only a basic banishment spell. _Anyone _could have done it. I'm just the only one who wasn't taken in by her phoney lighting effects. She's a total fake! Oh... hi, Cammy!"

"Hello, Hermione. What are you discussing so heatedly?"

"Um... trout," she said on the spot. 

"Actually, Hermione was just saying how much she hates you and your 'phoney lighting effects.'"

"Please excuse Ron and his sledgehammer wit," Hermione said through gritted teeth, "he gets confused sometimes. But on the subject of your little display earlier," at this, Cammy looked at her, "where did you learn to do that?"

"At my school in Peru. Those creatures, they were quite common there. So all Peruvian children know how to repel a Nvurek."

"Is that what it was?"

"Yes. A shape-changer. It takes on the form of the most hostile creature already in the environment."

"Uh-huh. I do _know _what a Nvurek is, you know," Hermione lied, making a mental note to check them out in the library at the first opportunity. But first, there were some bubbles to burst. "See, you guys? Anyone at Cammy's school could have done that. It really wasn't anything special."

"That is what I have been trying to tell them," Cammy said, smiling slightly. Hermione looked at her, trying to judge whether she was being sincere or not. Hermione knew that if it had been her, she would have been milking it for all it was worth. But then, Cammy was so... _nice. _The word felt incongruous to Hermione. She usually used it when speaking in polite company about someone she privately thought of as a whore. 

She could see Ron staring at Cammy unashamedly, his jaw slack and his eyes glazed. This wasn't fair. It was _her _job to make Ron drool over something he knew he could never have. That was it. This was war. 

*

"Put it in then!" Dean instructed.

"What, so this thing goes in here?"

"Yeah. Like that. Then you push the 'play' button. See it?"

"Yeah. Okay... here we go."

Ron sat down on the sofa in the dormitory where Dean, Seamus and Harry were already waiting for the movie to begin. They had assumed Neville wouldn't be interested in the entertainment they had planned; Dean had managed to acquire another of the infamous blank-covered videos and they were all eagerly anticipating what it contained. They had been promised that it would show them 'things they'd never seen before' and Dean was sure that if this was true, they were in for a treat. After a brief and amateurish crackle, the screen flickered to life. And _what_ life. The first scene was in a room full of mirrors, a wooden bar running along one side. A familiar large lump of pink material was on the floor, and the camera that must have been hidden in the room confirmed all of Dean's worst suspicions about what Hannah Abbot _was_ actually doing instead of her ballet practise. 

*

Cho ran a comb through her neat black hair and spritzed on a little perfume before pushing open the door to her dormitory and wandering down to the Gryffindor common room. Reaching the Portrait Hole, she fished around in her pocket for a small scrap of paper bearing this week's password. Being Head Girl, she was automatically given all of them at the start of each week in case of emergency. The Fat Lady opened obligingly when she recognised the seventh year girl's familiar face, and Cho swung her legs over the hole in the wall and entered the cosy, round room. Her eyes searched the crowd for a sign of Harry, but he was nowhere to be seen. He must be in his dormitory, then. With one last look at her make-up, she pushed open the door. 

*

"Oh my GOD!" Seamus expectorated, "Harry, that's YOU!"

"I know," said Harry, feeling sick. There he was, scrubbing the floor. Any minute now, Cho would come in. And then... he didn't want to think about it. Well, he _did, _but not right now. 

"What the fuck are you doin' on here, Harry? I don't wanna watch my mate doin' some poofter work, scrubbing the fuckin' floors! Where's yer apron, eh? With the frills on it?"

"Shut up, Dean," Harry said, blushing. "And anyway, it gets better. Just... watch." In truth, he was quite excited about seeing his exploits again. He had probably missed some of the finer points while he was...

"Shagging Cho. A fuckumentary by Harry Potter." Cho's voice cut across from the doorway, sounding embittered and cold. 

"Oh, God. Oh crap. Oh no. Cho, please - it's not what it looks like! I can explain!"

"I think you'd better," she said icily. The pain on her face was clear, her eyes wide and hurt. 

"I... can't explain. But Cho, if you'd just listen-"

"I've heard enough. I mean, 'it gets better?' Nice going, Harry. You video us having sex? Fine. Kinky, but fine. You show your friends? You get your bollocks chopped off. Or you would, if I had the means and the patience and the _total callous disregard for other people's feelings!_ I cared about you, Harry." And tears spilled from those blue eyes he loved so much, and he couldn't bear to watch her any more. He turned his face away to hide the fact that it was burning with shame. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. I didn't know. I would _never _do that to you. Do you believe me?" 

But he was talking to an empty doorway. Cho had disappeared. 

*

"Harry Potter is a bastard. I hate him. I _hate _him!" 

"It's okay, Cho honey. You're just telling me what the rest of us have known all along. You're too good for him, you know that?" And Hermione passed her the large tub of Rocky Road ice-cream so that she could sob into it. 

"But he was so nice! And I really liked him, and I trusted him, and I-" Cho broke down again. 

"Shh, shh. It's okay." Hermione put her arm around Cho's shaking shoulders and pulled her into a hug. "You're strong. You can get through this." Since her initial misconceptions about Cho being a 'prissy seventh year bitch' had been dispelled, Hermione had found Cho to be a fun, fearless and very useful friend to have. And if you wanted the good times, you had to be prepared to put up with the bad. Otherwise, Hermione would certainly not be wasting her Saturday evening listening to the 'hundred things you didn't want to know about Harry' in full swing. At least it meant she'd be first with all the gossip tomorrow. 

"And you're telling me he just _videoed _the whole thing? How could he have known in advance?"

"I don't know... perhaps he was just hoping something like that was going to happen. But I can't believe he just... did it with me, knowing it was all being taped!"

Hermione had to admit, that didn't sound like the Harry she knew. But who knew what he'd do under the influence of his friends? Listening to Cho listing Harry's shortcomings made Hermione very glad she had such a caring, trustworthy boyfriend as Lee. 

*

"Did I say a galleon? For you love, sixteen sickles and twenny eight knuts! Done." Lee handed Millicent Bulstrode a bulging paper bag and tipped the Slytherin girl's money into a heavy pouch almost overflowing with coins. When she had gone, he grinned and weighed up the bag in his hand. There had to be at least two hundred galleons in there. He had made a massive profit. Closing his briefcase, he tucked the pouch into his pocket and strode to the front of the Great Hall. Fred and George had helped him to erect a podium there, so he would be a commanding prescence while he delivered his speech. He had been planning it for months, and had run it past Hermione several times. Judging by her interest and enthusiasm, everything should go perfectly. He had invited almost the whole school to see it, and would be enlightening them with his two-hour long masterpiece about commentating Quidditch Matches. Assuming his 'earnest and important' pose, he cleared his throat and the waiting crowd fell silent. 

*

Hermione put the tape into the machine and sat back on her bed to watch it. A depressed Harry had been all too glad to let her borrow the VCR and being muggle-born she had no trouble operating it. She wanted to see what all the fuss was about, and was still dubious as to why Harry had decided to film Cho and him in the bathroom. The tape started to play. The sound quality was so bad that it was impossible to make out any of the conversation. And the tape didn't begin with Harry and Cho. There was Hannah Abbot. What was she doing? Eeeeeew. Ah... here was Harry. Scrubbing the floor. Then Cho came in... she took off her robes and slipped into the water. _The girl's got class, _Hermione thought, as she watched Cho pull Harry headfirst into the huge bath.

After that there were several other scenes that could only have been filmed with hidden cameras. Was Harry really this sick? It would take a seriously weird pervert to want to film all of this. Though she had to admit, the film _was _very enlightening. Well, that was fun. She was about to remove the tape from the VCR when something caught her eye. Inside the blank case was a small slip of white paper. She unfolded it, her eyes widening as she read the short and almost illegible note.

****

Dean here is the tape. First bit is a bit boring but fast-forward to 50:07 minnites and I garantie the only sound you'll here is the fly-buttons hitting the seeling know what I mean? Thanks for the 'art' it will fetch quite a good price. Lee. 

__

The most worrying thing is the spelling, Hermione thought as she screwed up the note. Then she flattened it out again and spun forward to the number specified in the note. She supposed she should be worried about Lee's rather sick little hobby, but... _oh well. Everybody has their little fetishes. _

She watched the numbers on the tape as they went up... thirty... forty... fifty. Then, with more than a little trepidation, she pushed the play button. Oh, the sound was worryingly clear on this bit. As was the picture. As was the horrible, sickening sense of realisation that dawned on her like a particularly malicious and vengeful morning. Oh, bollocks. Did she really wear that bikini? Well, _half _of that bikini, at least? And she didn't remember saying those things. Oh, that was Angelina just walking through the door. This must have been that night right at the beginning of term. No wonder she didn't have a very clear memory of it. The next scene started with Lee's face looming into the camera as he angled it so it faced the bed in the middle of the room. He obviously hadn't spent much time editing it. Then he straightened his tie and opened the door. A smiling Hermione stepped in and greeted Lee with a deep kiss. _At least I look great, _she consoled herself. _That bastard! I am going to kill him. Right now. _And she kicked the VCR so that the screen went fuzzy. Her motto was usually 'don't get mad, get even.' Right now, she was fully intending to do both. Where was that sod now? Oh, yes. How could she have forgotten? He would be at that stupid, pissing, Quidditch lecture. At least she'd give his audience something interesting to watch. Boy, was she angry. And armed with a pair of industrial strength bolt-clippers, she marched down the corridor towards the Great Hall. 

*

"And so I said, 'he's gonna score!' and he did! How's that for exciting, eh?" There was a lacklustre murmur from the audience as Lee launched into another long and boring anecdote. 

Heads whipped around as the heavy doors slammed open. _Kicking those doors felt good, _Hermione thought, _but nothing will compare to kicking his..._

"Bollocks!" Lee muttered, seeing his irate girlfriend advancing towards him. "Can't you see I'm busy, darling?"

The audience held its breath as all of Hermione's weight was put behind a punch that would have knocked the arse off of a concrete elephant. 

"What was that for, babe?" Lee asked, rubbing his jaw and standing up again. 

"Oh, Lee. Don't smile." And she punched him again, this time square in the face. 

"Arrrgh! What's up with you then?" Hermione didn't answer yet. She just kicked him in the shins a couple of times. Lee looked up at her, still inexplicably grinning.

"God, you're cute when you're angry," he said. He obviously thought this would appease her. She responded by winding him with a very violent kick to the stomach. 

"Oooof! Cor, blimey luv!" He managed to get to his feet again and held his briefcase protectively in front of him. Quite a few people were cheering Hermione on. 

She assessed the situation for a split second before grabbing one end of his briefcase and tugging it. 

"Eh! Give us that back!" 

"Why certainly," she yelled before slamming it with astonishing force into his groin.

"Ow, my bollocks!" he groaned, twisting around in agony on the floor. Hermione felt great. She really should do this more often. Lee's eyes were fixed on his briefcase which lay on the floor a few feet away. He made a sudden advance towards it but Hermione got there first, snatching it up from the floor and stamping on both of his hands. Sucking his bleeding fingers, he tried to bite Hermione's arm and make her drop it, but she elbowed him in the face. Curled up in a bruised heap on the floor, Lee just managed to say,

"I like.. a woman... with spirit," before Hermione jumping on his stomach reduced him to silence. 

"Now... let's have a look at _this_!" and she threw the briefcase at Lee's head. It bounced off and fell open on the floor.

"Darlin', you don't wanna be doin' that, I promise."

But he was too late. A loud springing noise came from inside the suitcase before it executed a fairly complicated series of whirrings and expanded into several large trestle tables on which lay goods of highly questionable virtue. 

"It's not mine, honest love!" Lee said feebly before passing out.

*

End of Part Four

A/N: Please, please review us! We'd love to know what you thought. And look out for part five... coming to ff.net soon! A&D ^_~


	5. Party at Parkinson Park

Party at Parkinson Park ****

Generation X – Spring Term

Part Five - Party at Parkinson Park

****

A/N: Well… here it is, after an inhumanly long wait. I could go on about how difficult it is to write as a team when you are both very busy, and how many hours we spent writing this part, but no-one likes whiny authors, so I won't… ^^;; To be honest, we have so much fun writing this that we don't mind how long it takes. Anyway, we apologise for taking so long, and hope the end result was worth waiting for. Do enjoy, and remember to tell us what you thought! We love your reviews ^_~ Aurora and Drosera. 

Blaise took a deep drag on his cigar and almost choked. Trying to hide this, he coughed discreetly and said quickly,

"So, er... let's get this underway, shall we?"

There were murmurs of agreement from the other 'Young Death Eaters' gathered in the large drawing room of Parkinson Park. All the adult members were at Malfoy Manor 60 miles away and would be gone for the entire weekend. They had the lavish 17th century house to themselves. Unfortunately, they were not in a position to take advantage of the situation - there was work to be done and important matters to be discussed.

"Boring, boring, boring!" Pansy muttered to herself under her breath. 

"Pansy, will you _please_ try and concentrate?" Draco pleaded. "This won't last for long, I promise." 

Pansy fixed him with a recalcitrant look and went back to filing her nails. Draco sighed. Blaise yawned and began to carve his initials into a beautiful French antique bridge table. 

*

It was evening. Across the vast dewy lawns of Parkinson Park, hundreds of feet were padding silently. Well, almost silently.

"This is gonna be _blindin',_ mate!" Lee said loudly. Lots of giggles and whispers of "shhh!" followed. Moments later, there was a loud expectoration as Justin's long-suffering drum kit was dropped heavily, the bass smashing an antique sundial and two cymbals rolling noisily down the rockeries. There was muffled swearing from the rest of the 7th years carrying various other musical instruments. 

At the front of the group, Hermione wrapped her arms around herself. Her almost non-existent dress looked fantastic, but wasn't so great at keeping out the cold of the February evening. It was two weeks now since the incident with Lee, and she was still furious at him. But she did miss having someone to strut around with, and though she had been on the lookout ever since she'd dumped him she hadn't yet found a suitable replacement. Oh, well. She was sure that wouldn't last for long. 

Harry, too, was alone. Cho was on holiday for the whole of half term, and hadn't been able to attend the impromptu gatecrashing. Word had got round like lightning on the last day of term, and it seemed every student in the fifth, sixth, seventh _and _eighth year had decided to turn up. Further on, he could see Fred and George lugging heavy crates of beer, stepping clumsily on the garden's finest flora as they did so. Alicia and Katie were chattering excitedly behind them. 

But he wasn't exactly going to be sitting on his own in a corner... his entire 'posse' were there.

"I'm gonna pick me up a chick and score, I am!" Ron told nobody in particular. Surveying his friend's baggy, slightly stained T-shirt and too-short trousers, Harry thought this was highly unlikely, but he kept quiet. Dean, however, was not so subtle.

"Don't fuckin' think so, mate. You look fuckin'... fuckin' _skanky, _you do."

"Shudddup!" Ron said, blushing furiously. Ginny hadn't been on hand to advise him about his outfit, so he'd decided to come as he was. It wasn't his fault all his friends looked smarter than he did. Seamus had slicked back his curly hair and was wearing a freshly starched shirt. Harry, as always, looked a little scruffy, but he polished up well. Chicks loved it. And at least Dean had some decent brand names on. Ron cursed as a pebble got stuck in his cheap trainers. Darn. The duct tape must have fallen off again.

*

Draco shook Goyle awake indignantly. He was almost at the end of his epic speech about a change of uniform (blue just didn't do it for him) and his supposed 'best friend' had fallen asleep. Goyle grunted and blearily wiped his eyes. There were similarly glazed expressions on the faces of everyone else. He only had a few more lines, then the motion could be passed and they could all go to bed. It was only half past ten. These meetings really ruined your social life. 

"So, to recapitulate, my policies are-"

BANG. A loud knock came at the door. Instantly everyone jerked upright, Pansy especially looking delighted at the prospect of some excitement at last. She started to get up to answer, but Draco sent her back to her chaise-lounge with a wave of his hand. 

"It's nothing," he said through gritted teeth. "So, as I was saying-"

BANG. There it was again. Damn. Was he ever going to finish his speech? He'd already been holding forth on the same subject for twenty minutes. Taking the age-old approach that if he ignored it, it might go away, he tried again.

"All in favour, say aye."

**__**

SMASH! The leaded glass in the huge windows gave way with an almighty crash. Leaping to their feet, the Young Death Eaters looked on flabbergasted as what looked like half of Hogwarts came pouring through doors, windows and even ventilation shafts. In their arms came crates of beer, amplifiers, stereos, guitars, drums, microphones, bowls of snacks and even those little cocktail umbrellas. Draco whirled around to face his cohorts, his face even paler than usual. 

"Which one of you did this?" he demanded. Guilty looks were exchanged, though Pansy still looked ready to explode with joy. Eventually, Blaise spoke up.

"I, er... I might have told a _couple _of people..." 

Draco began to advance towards him. Blaise, though a good deal taller than the blond boy, visibly cowered, but without cause. 

"Thankyou." Draco said, patting Blaise heartily on the back as a huge smile spread over his face. 

*

Hermione teetered carefully across the thronging dance floor in her six-inch platforms, clutching a Tia Maria and trying not to spill any on her expensive new dress. Actually, it was Cho's. She hoped her friend wouldn't mind her 'breaking it in'. She had gained a lot of admiring glances, and so far was having a great time. The party was going to be a spectacular success. Her heart leaped when she saw Draco leaning against the bar on the other side of the room, and rapidly sunk again when she saw Pansy looking radiant beside him. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the pair as Draco tried to get Pansy to eat some of the Buffet. She kept wrinkling her nose and shaking her head, only agreeing to eat a dainty pastry when Draco put it in her mouth for her. Hermione had spent _ages _making those. It hardly seemed fair. Draco glanced in her direction. Hermione winked. He winked back almost imperceptibly, then looked away. She loved it when guys played it cool. Only usually around her, they didn't. She turned to face the table, which was groaning under the weight of so many delectable snacks. When Hermione organized a party, she did it _properly._ Pretending only to be taking a sip of her drink, she observed Draco's reflection in a dented old silver shield.

__

Just as I thought, Hermione thought, smiling widely. _He's staring at my ass. _

*

"So, what do you think?" Pansy prompted Draco. He didn't seem to be paying her his full attention. 

"My God, it's... amazing. The way it curves is just... what were you saying?" he turned back to her looking lost. He looked very much as though he was trying to stop a smile creeping from the side of his mouth. 

"You should listen to me properly, you silly boy," Pansy scolded playfully, "I was _asking _what you thought of my new dress." She indicated the lacy pink thing she was wearing. 

"Oh, it's very...nice." Draco said absently, not even looking. "Look, I'll be back in a minute, okay?" He was about to set down his glass when Pansy grabbed his arm forcefully and began to pull him towards a large crowd. 

"Fight! Fight!" she squealed. Wiping sherry away from where it had spilt on his white jeans, he looked up just in time to see two burly 7th years fall painfully through a window. 

"You'll have to pay for that, you know!" Draco yelled weakly, before deciding he didn't care in the slightest. 

*

Ginny upended another cocktail glass and swallowed it in one gulp. The amber liquid burned her throat and sent a pleasurable tingle down her spine. Giggling, she threw the dice again and through an alcoholic haze managed to ascertain that she had rolled _another _double. She certainly seemed to be losing this game badly. Lee helped another shot glass into her hand and she raised it to her lips. This one tasted bittersweet, and made her feel a little dizzy. She swayed dangerously, but was caught by his strong arm. 

"Three doubles, darlin'!" Lee said, grinning. "You know what that means?"

"Yesh," Ginny slurred, "I have to take thish off as well, don't I?" Her semi-clad 5th year friends all cheered loudly as she removed a pair of pink knickers. Why she did this when she was still wearing both shoes, socks, a sweater and a T-shirt was anyone's guess. Lee didn't seem to mind. Ginny reeled as a bright flash and a click went off very close to her. Without wondering what it was, she staggered off mumbling something incoherent about having to 'warn the tooth fairy about the pink mushrooms'.

*

"Cheer up Harry, you wanker!"

"Thanks, Dean. You're really helping." Harry said flatly. It wasn't his fault he missed Cho so badly.

"Oy. I'm only saying it 'cos I care. Now, look at it this way - there are a lot of _fine ladies _here tonight. Get my drift?"

"Dean, if you think five minutes without my beautiful new girlfriend is going to make me desperate to cheat on her, you're sadly mistaken. I've only just patched things up with her after that bastard Lee successfully ruined our relationship a day after it properly started."

"Whatever. Just... don't look so fuckin' miserable. 'Ave a drink. It's on me."

Harry decided not to point out that seeing as drinks were free, it mattered very little that it was 'on him'. 

"I'll just have an orange juice, thanks," he said to Dean, who wandered off in the direction of the bar saying something that sounded ominously like 'yeah, right.'

*

Alone again, Hermione poured herself another Tequila Sunrise. She was mixing her own drinks tonight, mainly because Ginny Weasley was warning enough against accepting one of Lee's cocktails. He and Blaise were taking it in turns behind the bar and both seemed to be enjoying themselves rather more than was healthy. 

Who could she go and talk to? Perhaps it was a sign of just how lonely she actually was that she was resorting to alcohol to pick her spirits up. Lee was a shit, but at least he was company. The fact that she could easily have almost any male in the place didn't improve her mood much. The only two she didn't fancy her chances with were Neville and Ernie, who were currently singing karaoke to 'Hot Stuff' accompanied by the 7th year band, who were on very good form this evening. However, her mood took a definite upturn when she saw Justin Finch-Fletchley standing alone by the Buffet. _Now at least I won't look totally sad, _she thought as she made her way over to him. Waving energetically and flashing a dazzling smile, she was pleased to see him smile back.

"Justin, hi! I haven't seen you for, like, ages. How are y-" 

She was cut short as Cammy Mirlinu swept past and took the boy's arm, looking innocently pretty as usual. So it was _her _that Justin's smile had been directed at. She should have known they'd be here together. Ever since Cammy had joined Hogwarts, the two of them had got along really well. It was sickening, as was the feeling of disappointment Hermione was experiencing. Even _Justin _had a date. Hermione sat down, feeling weak. It was at the same time that she realized that Cammy's eager strides had had the unfortunate effect of knocking her drink out of her hand, leaving a horrible tequila-sunrise-coloured stain right along the front of Hermione's - or rather _Cho's _- formerly pure white dress. 

"BITCH!" Hermione yelled at Cammy's retreating back. The Peruvian _whore _didn't even stop to apologize. It was a while since Hermione had felt ready to cry. It wasn't something she wanted to experience again any time soon. She needed to cheer herself up, and fast. Sulking, she pulled her wand out from her handbag and began to trace it through the air. Bitching was something that usually loved company, but Hermione was perfectly good at it on her own. She instantly felt better as in pink sparkly foot-high lettering she wrote _CAMMY G. MIRLINU IS A WHORE. CAMMY IS A SLUT. CAMMY IS A SLAG. I HATE CAMMY MIRLINU. _Childish, but fun. Then, taking the letters of Cammy's name, she began to rearrange them in a variety of amusing ways. Harry had told her about Tom Riddle's name, and she wondered if she could pull off something similar with Cammy's. Hopefully it would be something along the lines of _I am a hairy slut who belongs in a Taiwanese brothel. _But there wasn't quite enough letters for that. 

Within a few minutes she'd come up with a few good ones. Like I'M GAY. And I'M UGLY. But they didn't use up all of the letters. Another five minutes of effort and she was feeling much better, especially after she came up with the masterful I'M MR. UGLY MANIC. _Ha. That'll show her, _Hermione thought, grinning. _Well, it won't, but it'll sure cheer me up to tell Harry. _Now she was tiring of this game. Just one more... _oh. That was a stunning coincidence. Oh, well. It's probably nothing. _

Her ponderings over the strange conundrum were interrupted by loud laughing shrieks from Pansy's large swimming pool. She had to envy the girl's impressive manor house. _A swim is just what I need, _thought Hermione. _And I've been dying to try out my new Christian Dior bikini..._

*

The party was in full swing. Dean could hardly be heard above the noise of the band as he shouted across the bar to Blaise. Lee was in the far corner of the tremendously large room, filling a paddling pool with what looked suspiciously like very wet and sloppy mud. A badly worded sign propped next to it proclaimed,

****

come & have a go @ mud resseling only 5 knuts a time - free for topless girls

Dean very much doubted he'd get many customers. At least, not until a lot later on in the evening. 

"I'LL HAVE AN ORANGE JUICE, MATE!" Dean yelled. 

"ORANGE JUICE? YER FUCKIN' WIV ME, AIN'T YA?" Blaise replied. 

"IT'S FOR HARRY!" Dean shouted back. Blaise rolled his eyes and searched for a clean glass. Finding one that only had some funny black stuff encrusted on the bottom, he filled it with orange juice and handed it over. Dean was about to walk back to Harry, but the sight of his friend with his head buried in his hands was too much for him. Turning back to the bar, he poured away half of the juice and replaced it with what was likely to be a lethal concoction of vodka, bacardi and something pink that later turned out to be Window Cleaner. It was still _vaguely _orange. Carrying the tumbler back to Harry, he put the drink into his hand and took a seat. 

"Er, Dean? Are you _sure _this is orange juice?" Harry said, eyeing the glass (which was steaming slightly) suspiciously.

"It's juice, innit? And it's orange. What the fuck else is it gonna be?" 

Unable to fight Dean's indefatigable logic, Harry raised the glass. 

"Cheers."

*

Late afternoon sunlight fell through the blinds of Parvati's room. In his cot, Ranjit was sound asleep. His small chest rose and fell rhythmically, his tiny hands clenching and unclenching on the white wooly blanked covering him. Smiling down at him, Parvati stood up and drew the curtains across. Looking after a baby was incredibly hard work, but this... this made it all worth it. She slipped out of the room and closed the door silently behind her. In the sitting room, Padma lay reading on the sofa. Parvati sat next to her, closing her eyes and enjoying the unusual quiet. However, it did not last for long. The telephone rang shrilly. Not wanting Ranjit to wake, Parvati sprang up to answer it. 

"Hello?"

"Hi. Is that Parvati?"

"Yes, speaking. Lavender?"

"Yeah. Um, hi. I was just thinking... did you hear about the party?"

"What party?"

"The one I'm on the way to at the moment. Look, I'm nearby, and I just thought... you don't want to come, do you?"

"Oh, Lavender, I'd love to, but... I can't, really, can I?"

"I've asked Mum. You can stay with us afterwards. It doesn't start 'til 10:30, but that gives us time to go shopping first."

Silence.

"You can ask Padma to baby-sit," Lavender pushed. 

Parvati thought for a moment. Then she smiled. After all, you were only 17 once. "Okay."

*

Hermione stepped out of the poolhouse where she had just got changed and out onto the crowded poolside. It was late now, and the sky was pitch black. Small, mulitcoloured lanterns bedecked the trees, and pretty reflections glimmered on the water. Though the night was cold, the water was very warm and wisps of steam drifted gently on the breeze. Couples were lounging in deckchairs, large groups of boisterous boys were drenching each other, girls giggled and chattered. The music from the house was so loud it could still be heard here outside. 

Her new black bikini didn't leave much to the imagination and clung to every one of her voluptuous curves. She had already heard some appreciative whistles. Hmm... how to make a dramatic entrance...? Ah. That would be _perfect. _Being a solitary figure wasn't always a bad thing. It meant everyone's attention was focused on her and her alone as she gracefully ascended the tall ladder up to the diving board. Twenty feet up, she looked down at the sparkling, dark water. It really _was _a long way down... She could see Ron's hair, a small patch of vibrant orange, right below her. It would make a good target. 

Hermione considered herself to be a woman of the world. What she hadn't already tried, she could usually fake convincingly enough. Diving couldn't be _that _difficult, could it? Lifting her arms above her head, she balanced herself on the edge of the board. Only slightly nervous, she lifted onto her tiptoes and leapt into the air. Pulling in her legs and tucking herself up, she rolled neatly over in the air before straightening out and planning to knife into the water. However, what she hadn't anticipated was that the water would be so goddam _near. Okay, so I guess on the Olympics they might go from a little higher that twenty feet... _trying to salvage the situation, Hermione put her arms over her face and flailed her legs wildly in the vain hope it might prevent her messy and painful death. 

"And so he said to him," Ron said, reaching the end of a very long and detailed joke which personally he found hilarious every time, "Great things happen to those who - oh, no wait. No, no, that's wrong. Can I start again?" 

Deathly silence prevailed. Ron realized nobody was listening to him. Looking up, he saw why. The worst thing was that he didn't even have time to appreciate the fact that he could see _right _the way up Hermione's bikini top. 

__

SPLASH! 

Hermione hit the water at full tilt, limbs still windmilling. _OW! That **really **hurt. _When the initial shock of the incredible pain was over, she had time to consider the consequences. _Okay, so that was the singularly most embarrassing thing you've ever done in your life. You still looked amazing. Ignore the pain. Ignore the fact that you feel as though you've just swallowed 20 litres of water. And work it, baby! _

And she pushed off from the bottom of the pool, breaking the surface and lifting her arms triumphantly skywards with a slightly dazed but still dazzling smile. Thunderous applause greeted her, everyone looking admiringly at the 'daredevil.' _That... could have been worse,_ Hermione thought. _My God, I love being me. _

*

Draco gripped his wineglass, staring up at the lithe creature who was plummeting through the air with alarming speed. _God, she's amazing, _he thought, marveling at how she could move her limbs with such co-ordination. _She must be a pro! _

Pansy had vanished off somewhere, and Draco was, unusually, left to his own devices. Stretching languorously on his sunlounger, his eyes followed Hermione's rapid descent. _Is that a Christian Dior bikini? It certainly fits her remarkably well. _SMASH. His wineglass shattered in his hand as he got a rather impressive view of the said bikini... and its inhabitant. Boy, was he glad he'd picked a deckchair right under the diving board. As she hit the surface of the pool, water splashed everywhere, including right into Draco's lap and over his immaculate hair. _Darn._ Oh, well. He needed another drink anyway. He could come back and enjoy Hermione's company in the pool later. Pushing his sopping hair out of his eyes, Draco went to find a change of clothes. 

*

Harry saw stars. They were very pretty... but should they really be dancing round Dean's head like that?

"Haz, are you okay?"

"Yeah..." Harry said, vaguely. "Where are those stars from?"

"Fuck. Harry, I think you'd better lie down."

"But I don't want to... I feel really light and floaty."

"He's on a voyage to trip out city and no mistake," Dean muttered to Blaise, who too was looking concerned. 

"Just give him a minute," Blaise advised. "It's the bicycle oil...takes a while to kick in."

"_Bicycle _oil?!" Dean exclaimed, "What the fuck'd you put that in for?"

"I didn't... I just found out what that black stuff was that was encrusted on the glass I gave him."

They waited. Harry involuntarily _did _lay on the floor, where he proceeded to giggle and insist to the general public that he was, in fact, Maria Von Trapp. Just when Blaise was looking _really _worried, Harry snapped out of it. 

"Suddenly I feel like I... like I want to strut my funky stuff!"

"That's more fuckin' like it!" Dean said happily. The desired effect had been achieved. Harry got to his feet, suddenly possessed of a manic energy. A reasonable sized crowd was gathering, and the 7th year band suddenly took a break from the mainstream of the evening's repertoire and launched into 'Night Fever.' Like a man possessed he began to 'boogie on down'. Fred and George had never looked prouder of Harry in their lives. He proceeded to sing his way through 'hits of the BeeGees', start a conga, grab a very worried-looking Alicia on her way to the pool and attempt to tango, and had even begun to teach Crabbe and Goyle to line-dance when his cocktail wore off and he collapsed onto the floor.

*

Boy, was Ginny smashed. She tottered through a corridor and pushed open a door. Nope, _they _certainly weren't the Tooth Fairy. 

"Ooops. Shhorry," she slurred to whichever couple she had just interrupted. Parkinson Park had over 20 bedrooms, none of which contained the Tooth Fairy or any other kind of fantasy creature, unless you counted House Elves. But Ginny wasn't to know that. Stumbling back out into the corridor, she continued along it, hoping to find signs of life, or at least something else to drink. 

At last - here she could hear loud, thumping music. There were little pixies, all around. Oooh. Why was this pixie trying to hold onto her? She struggled away, and collapsed right into an elf. Well, it was pale and blond and quite tall. Was it an elf? No, that was silly. It was _obviously _a giraffe. 

"Kiss me," she said, closing her eyes and puckering her lips in the giraffe's direction. 

Draco paused a moment, to fully take in the fact that Ginny was minus her trousers... and her underwear. Gently but firmly, he took her by the shoulders and looked for an appropriate candidate to palm her off onto. In a corner, slumped into a padded armchair, was a dark-haired kid who looked like he could use a bit of company. 

"Kiss _him,_" Draco instructed, pushing her away. Ginny laughed and fell happily onto the badger's lap. The badger lifted his head. 

Harry was dimly aware that Ginny should probably be wearing rather more clothes that she was, and that she _certainly _shouldn't be doing that to his ear, but somehow was finding it very hard to resist. 

"Come on," he said, pulling her into a nearby empty room. Ginny's legs buckled under her and she toppled onto the bed. 

"Are _you _the Tooth Fairy?" 

*

Parvati stepped over the threshold of the house and though momentarily that she was hallucinating. Almost instantly someone had put a drink into her hand, and all around her there was laughter, splashes, shrieks, highly inappropriate jokes and more exposed flesh than she'd ever seen in her life. This looked _fun. _As she watched, someone sprayed vast quantities of deodorant all over an ancient tapestry that was probably priceless before whipping out a lighter and sending it up in a _whooosh _of flame. With a jolt of half excitement and half absolute stomach churning terror, she began to mingle. It felt so good to have some time to herself, to see Lavender, to be a teenager with the appropriate lack of responsibility. 

She and Lavender made their way over to the Bar and Buffet. Lavender was just piling up a plate with snacky pastries when Parvati dug her nails into her arm, hard.

"Ow! What is it?"

What it was became apparent and Blaise and Dean came sauntering over, both looking as uncomfortable as Parvati and Lavender felt. There was a moment of embarrassing silence before Blaise nudged Dean, gesturing in the direction of 'away'. Lavender, too, took the hint, and made sure to grab Dean's arm and attempt to engage him in conversation before dragging him over to where the band were playing. 

Parvati and Blaise stood facing each other.

"Hi," they both said at once. 

"How are you?" Parvati asked.

"Fine."

"You?"

"Fine." 

More silence. Parvati decided that actions speak louder than words. She could see from his face that he needed to talk as much as she did. Stepping closer to him and standing on tiptoes, she planted a chaste kiss on his cheek and linked her arm through his. They made their way out to the ornamental gardens, both still unsure of each other, but knowing that one way or another, they would sort this out.

*

Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones walked nervously up the gravel drive to the large and imposing house. Clutching a balloon, a multi-pack of orangeade and some party poppers, Hannah raised a podgy fist and rapped on the door. She could hear loud music, splashes and screaming coming from within. Anxiously, they waited. Susan coughed. After a minute, the door was opened by Draco Malfoy. 

"Hello?" he said, looking at the ugly pair in distaste and praying they weren't some kind of twisted strippergram. 

"We're here for the party?"

"Er...no, sorry. There's no party here." Draco said, trying to look nonplussed. Unfortunately the effect was rather spoilt as Dean charged up and shoved a Lime Bacardi Breezer into his hand, slapping him on the back with a cry of,

"Quick, mate. George is fuckin' goin' for third base with Katie, in front of everyone!" before hurrying off again. 

"Weird!" Draco said nonchalantly, looking over his shoulder in apparent surprise at this intrusion. "Try the house down the road." 

Hannah and Susan, looking slightly bemused, turned to look for the nearest house. When they turned back, the door was firmly closed. 

"We'd better start walking," Susan said. They set off into the darkness. 

*

Ron was dying for a piss. However, he was still in the pool, and enjoying a riveting conversation with Alicia Spinett. She was lapping up his spectacular jokes. She had tried swimming away a few times _(the little minx, Ron thought affectionately) _and even pleaded with him to let her go back to her friends. Girls, eh? They always played 'hard to get.' The last thing he wanted was to ruin the mood. _I should get out, _he thought. _It's probably not very hygienic. _But he was now at the agonizing stage where movement of any kind was bound to cause a severe accident anyway. _Better in the pool than out, _he reasoned, enjoying the blissful feeling as he emptied his bladder. However, his relief was mightily short lived. Within seconds, the screaming started. Ron knew the sick feeling of utter embarrassment better than most - his lifetime so far had contained more than its fair share. But he was totally unprepared for what was to happen next. 

__

Shit. Ron realized from the growing purple area spreading through the water around his groin that the water in the swimming pool had been impregnated with a chemical. This particular chemical was one that reacts with urine to guarantee shame and ridicule for any fool who decides to dirty the water. 

Alicia waded away at top speed, shrieking that Ron had pissed himself. Roars of laughter echoed around the pool as people scrambled to climb out of the befouled water. _It was probably best for him to get out of the water now. Maybe they'd even think it was someone else! His devious scheming amazed even himself sometimes. _He clambered out swiftly, but it didn't have the desired effect. If anything, the laughter only intensified. Looking down, Ron realized why.

__

Double shit. His cheap, white bathing trunks had gone utterly and completely see-through. He could see Hermione clutching her sides, bent almost double with laughter. Alicia, Angelina and Katie were holding onto each other and looked ready to collapse with mirth. 

__

Triple shit. It was then that Ron noticed what everyone else had noticed, the thing which would guarantee him the nickname of 'boner-boy' until he was at least thirty. It seemed that talking to Alicia had... affected him. Literally. Trying to salvage the tatters that remained of his reputation by covering himself with his hands, Ron took the only option left to him. He ran.

*

Ginny squirmed as Harry's hands explored the exciting realms under her sweater.

"That tickles!" she murmured, but her voice was muffled by the pillow her face was buried in. Rolling over, she raised her lips to his and closed her eyes blissfully. She was glad that the badger had turned out to be Harry. It was a new and exciting development.

Ginny's lips tasted sweet and alcoholic. Harry had the dim sense that what he was doing was wrong, possibly _very _wrong, but it all added to the thrill. Clasping her slim body tightly in his arms, he deftly slipped off her thin pullover, then lifted her tight T-shirt over her head. Loving the feel of her skin on his, he pulled her closer, his responsibility and morals all vanishing in a delightful and overwhelming instant. 

* 

Hermione clambered out of the pool, shaking out her dripping hair and then falling luxuriously onto one of the cushioned sunloungers. Things were definitely starting to look up; she'd spent the last twenty minutes flirting outrageously with a cute 7th year Ravenclaw and recounting her dramatic dive experience to all and sundry. To top it all, she had just glimpsed Cammy and Justin climbing out of the pool and slinking off. The Peruvian girl's bathing suit was, like, covering _way _too much of her, and was unflattering in the extreme. And... _eeeew! She hadn't even taken the trouble to shave her armpits. Yuck. That bastard Justin was suited to her perfectly._

Scanning the poolside lazily, she suddenly spied something which aroused her interest. In the middle of a group of Slytherin bitches, Pansy Parkinson seemed to be telling a very funny story. Listening intently, Hermione soon ascertained that it wasn't a story that was causing them to giggle helplessly, but rather a poor and inaccurate impression... of her. 

"Oh, look at me, look at me! Look at my tits! I'm easy! I'm Granger, the number one slut in the whole wide world!"

Had Hermione been anyone else, she probably would have either exploded with rage or burned with shame. However, she did neither of the two. Pretending she had not heard, she slipped on a pair of sunglasses, feigning repose. A few minutes later, Pansy left the group of wittering girls and walked past Hermione without noticing her. Very quietly, Hermione stood up and began to follow her. She had to time this just right for maximum effect. 

The blond girl was wearing a bikini which was, if it was possible, even _smaller _than Hermione's. Being petite, and incredibly thin, Pansy got away with the two scraps of pink fabric she was wearing. The top was a strapless, and was only held on by a clasp at the back. _Perfect! _Pansy was standing right by the double doors leading inside, meaning that crowds gathered both inside and outside would have a good view of what was to come. A few well-chosen words and a complicated flick of the wand later and Pansy's haute couture bikini top was around her ankles. 

"Oh my _God_! What is that slut Pansy, like, doing?! This is a public place!" Hermione said indignantly, hoping to throw everyone off the scent as to who was responsible. Pansy, though, had no doubt as to who had been the cause of her embarrassment. 

"I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS, YOU _WHORE_! THIS TIME I SWEAR YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH IT, YOU UGLY, SCABROUS BITCH..." 

"_Me _a whore? Don't you know the meaning of _propriety? _If you don't mind me saying, I'm not the one _exposing myself_!" Hermione retaliated. Pansy had kicked off her top from around her ankles. Covering herself up was obviously not a priority now. She was charging at Hermione, who, seeing this, darted inside. More shrieks and catcalls greeted Pansy as she gave chase. Taking refuge behind a trestle table, Hermione had time to regain her breath. Pansy assessed the situation for a moment before grabbing vol-au-vents and hurling a barrage of them at her arch-nemesis. 

"I don't see why you're so _popular_. Why would anyone sleep with you? You're _ugly. _You've probably got _fleas, _you brazen little _hussy_!" 

Time for the killer blow. 

"Draco didn't seem to have a problem with me. Or my 'fleas.'" Hermione knew this was a bit harsh, but she _had_ been asking for it. Draco blushed, partly with pride, but mainly because he was overcome by two beautiful girls fighting at least partially over his attentions.

There was a collective 'oooooh!' from the crowd. Ron gave a cry of,

"Bitchfight!" which seemed to send Pansy into a frenzy of rage. 

"DIE!" And taking Hermione completely by surprise, Pansy crashed through the trestle table, sending pastries flying, and cannoned into her, sending them both flying right into Lee's mud-wrestling arena. (Well, it was more the size of a paddling pool. He hadn't been able to afford the full-size one.) The boy's face lit up with delight as two semi-naked babes started hurling mud at each other. It had quickly degenerated into and out-and-out catfight. Pansy yelled as Hermione grabbed a huge chunk of her hair and tugged it as hard as she possibly could. She retaliated by digging her teeth into Hermione's shoulder and aiming a weak punch at her stomach. 

"Contending for 'bitch of the year,' Granger?" Pansy spat. 

"Why? Afraid I'll steal _your _title?" And she dug her nails into Pansy's face.

Once the initial shock had worn off, Lee realized that a potential for profit-making had presented itself to him. 

"Oy, Granger! You're not topless, love. That'll be 5 knuts, if ya don't mind."

This problem was immediately solved by Pansy grabbing the front of Hermione's designer bikini and ripping it off. 

"Have you _any _idea how much that cost?!" Hermione screeched, grabbing Pansy by the shoulders and forcing her whole head into the mud. After a few seconds, Pansy went limp. Hermione let go. She didn't _like _the girl, but she didn't want to drown her. 'Death by Lee's dodgy scheme' was not a nice way to go. But her concern was ill-founded. Pansy reared up and dived on Hermione, pausing only to remark that the mud 'tasted like a bloody urinal.' Dean inexplicably coughed and became very involved in choosing a nice-looking miniature quiche. 

"I don't know where to look," one of Ginny's friends muttered, blushing furiously and seriously re-assessing her morals. 

"Cor... I do!" Lee said, whistling appreciatively as Hermione grabbed Pansy in a headlock and with her free hand rubbed a handful of gunk into Pansy's sheet of blonde hair. The girls continued to grapple in the confines of the small plastic pool. 

"This is the best party I've ever been to!" Ron cried, his jaw almost on the floor. 

It could be described as lucky that they were interrupted at that moment, as both girls looked ready to kill each other by this time. A white-faced and trembling Ernie Macmillan burst in and screamed at the top of his voice,

"JUSTIN FINCH-FLETCLEY IS _DEAD_!" 

There was totally pure silence for the first time since the house had been empty early that morning. Pansy and Hermione let go of each other's hair in disbelief. Not one person spoke, all too shocked to say a word. The band held their instruments as though they didn't know what to do with them. It was a surreal moment. 

A sad procession of the bravest undertook the expedition to the third floor where they found Justin crumpled on the floor. His face was lifeless, his limbs hanging limply at his sides. Hermione put a hand to her mouth in shock. Even Lee looked sobered. Dean kicked the floor angrily. 

"Shit." Was his only remark. The group were unsure what to do. Katie Bell eventually stepped forward, tentatively lifting Justin's wrist and holding it with the two fingers on her right hand. All eyes were fixed on her face, which was so pale her freckles had disappeared. Then she smiled weakly. 

"Not dead. Unconscious." She managed, before bursting into tears of relief. The tension broke. 

"YES! _YES! _He's not dead! I knew it! I told you, didn't I? I'm so happy!" Then, realizing the situation was still serious, Draco shut up. 

"Insurance purposes only, of course," he muttered, blushing. 

*

Harry was wracked with guilt. His whole body felt... sullied. He felt cruel... evil. He looked down at Ginny, who was sleeping peacefully, and another wave of self-disgust swept over him. How could he have been so stupid as to wreck his chances with two of his favourite girls at once? Ginny was like a sister to him! And Cho... he had been so happy to patch things up with her, and now it would have all been for nothing. What he wanted was to forget... and there was only one way to do that. Stepping silently out of the room so as not to wake the slumbering girl, he padded down the hallway towards the direction of the loud music, which was now back on and playing at full volume. Blaise grinned at him from behind the bar, and winked. Harry didn't grin back, but asked for the strongest thing he could get. Blaise was all too happy to oblige; he'd been dying to try out his new concoction... toilet cleaner, Scotch, Southern Comfort and, inexplicably, creamed tofu. 

"This isn't _totally _lethal, is it Blaise?" Harry asked. He wouldn't put anything past the long-haired lunatic. 

"Nah, mate. Safe as houses. You could give it to your grandmother! And you'll get your eyesight back in two days. Guaranteed!"

Harry looked at it and crossed himself fervently before raising it to his lips and gulping it down. 

*

Draco dropped his shirt into the laundry basket in one of Parkinson Park's numerous walk-in bathroom closets and wrapped a fluffy white towel around his waist. The steam from the shower he was running humidified the room and left a damp sheen on his bare skin. He was just about to exit the closet and step under the water when a pair of feet pattered past and dived in before he could get there. Because of the condensation on the glass walls of the cubicle, it was impossible to see who was inside.

"Hey, you! Get out of my shower!" 

There was no response. 

"Who _is _that? I said get out!"

This time by means of reply a pair of sodden, muddy, extra small Christian Dior bikini bottoms came sailing over the top of the shower and landed at his feet with a _plop. _

Draco drew in his breath sharply, picking up the article of clothing and inspecting them closely. _My god... what to do? _

"When you've finished perving at my panties, Malfoy, I suggest you get lost. I have mud in places I didn't even know I _had. _I need this shower a lot more than you do."

Draco yelped and the black item slipped from his fingers. A totally naked, mud-smeared Hermione was poking her head out of the door and looking at him sternly, her face half amused and half accusing.

"But I was in here _first_!" Draco whined petulantly.

"Then it's my turn now." 

"But...but-"

"Jeez, it's not like it's got your name on it or anything!"

"Ahem." Draco pointed to the small monogram engraved on the golden handle of the cubicle. He stayed at Parkinson Park frequently, and they _did _have twenty bathrooms. 

"Well, maybe it does. But I'm not moving."

"Fine," Draco said recklessly. It was worth a try. "Then I'll just have to come in there with you."

Hermione raised a slim eyebrow.

"Please yourself." 

__

Looks like I won't have to, Draco thought, grinning as he dropped the towel and stepped under the warm jets of water. 

Hermione let the near-scalding liquid fall over her shoulders, cleansing her hair and running in rivulets down her bare, suntanned back. She was choosing for the moment to ignore the fact that she was standing stark naked centimetres away from a similarly clad young man who was beginning to dribble with lust at the sight of her. She was not able to blank him out for long, though. He made his presence very much felt by inching his hand towards a rather inappropriate place. 

"Drac-_oh!_" she gasped, slapping his hand away from where it was touching her but only looking mildly affronted. She wanted to take this slowly... it was always more fun that way. And there was still a lot of the night left... it was only 2 a.m... 

"Look... but don't touch," she teased, closing her eyes again as she turned her face up to the falling droplets. 

"Don't touch?" He said incredulously. "Granger, you're _gorgeous. _It's like going to a petting zoo where there's a sign saying 'don't pet the goats.' Boy, do you gotta pet 'em!"

"But I'm not a goat, am I, Draco?" 

__

Damn, thought Draco_. She'd beaten him in their 'battle of wits' again. Time to try a different approach. _

"They don't call me 'magic fingers Malfoy' for nothing, you know..." He smiled suggestively. Hermione looked at him condescendingly.

"No. They don't call you that at all." 

Draco gave up the smarmy act and laughed. 

"Maybe not, but I'm hoping they might after this escapade." He still looked hopeful. 

"Well... you could give me a free trial," she murmured. "I could, you know... spread the word about a bit...?" 

She sighed with pleasure as he began to run his soapy hands over her back. But.. something was niggling at the back of her mind. She couldn't quite put her finger on it... oh well. Nothing to worry about, she was sure. 

"Now it's your turn," Hermione said silkily. She turned round to face him and allowed him to brush her lips with his before turning him around and starting to soap his back. 

__

For someone so slender, he's quite muscular... Hermione mused as she massaged his shoulders. She had to reach up to him, being shorter than the blond boy. 

"How are... things?" she whispered. 

"Things?" 

"Yeah. Like... school."

"Oh... very, um... hard." 

Hermione had to stifle a giggle. 

"I can imagine. You're very tense." It was true - every muscle in his back was rigid. She continued to rub his fair skin. 

The elusive thought was surfacing. It was on the tip of her tongue... _Ooooh. Now she remembered! _

"Gotta go!" she said suddenly, slipping out of the shower with more than a little reluctance and rapidly drying herself with Draco's towel.

__

Memo to self: Keep towel forever, Draco had time to think as he stared after her. 

"Why are you going? _Where _are you going?"

She ransacked the closet, grabbing something that would make her at least half-decent and throwing it on. Then she realized she was wearing a pair of pantaloons. _There is a time and a place for these. But... now was definitely not it. _Ripping them off, she pulled on some miniscule underwear and rummaged around until she found something more suitable. She emerged from the closet wearing an incredibly short bronze minidress, which reflected the candlelight and complemented her figure and her tanned complexion perfectly. Kicking her feet into some high-heeled gold slingbacks and shaking out her hair, she sent a regretful glance back at Draco before pushing open the door and hurrying out. 

"You can't _do _that to a guy!" Draco yelled after her, bitterly disappointed. He knew he should go and see what she was up to. _This had better be worth it, _he thought mutinously, turning the dial on the shower firmly onto 'cold.'

*

"And I-I-I-yyy will always looooovvve yooooooou..." A drunken 5th year girl who was waving her underwear over her head and clutching a bottle of Martini warbled into the microphone. 

"Out of the way, loser!" Hermione said, shooing the girl away with a dismissive wave of her hand. 

"Okay, everyone! Listen up." There was cheering. Hermione was slightly irritated. This was _serious. _"I'm addressing you on a matter of great importance. It is vital that you pay careful attention because-"

"She's gonna do the Full Monty!" yelled some ugly boy who was grinning at her inanely. She fixed him with a special look of disgust before continuing. 

"_Because _there is someone in our midst who is not who you believe them to be." Pausing for dramatic effect, she was again annoyed when Seamus yelled,

"They've found you out, Ron! Now everyone knows you're a transvestite!"

"Shut up!" Ron yelped from where he was trying to be inconspicuous. He was still burning with embarrassment from the incident earlier. 

"Look, just _SHUT THE HELL UP _and let me FINISH!" Hermione screamed. 

"C-A-M-M-Y-G-M-I-R-L-I-N-U," she said out loud as she traced the letters in the air with her wand. The large pink letters hung there shimmering. Those who hadn't been paying attention before definitely were now. 

"I knew there was something fishy about that girl right from the minute she had the _audacity _to walk into our school. And what do you know? I was right. If you rearrange the letters of that little _whore's _name, this is what you get," Hermione said, a note of triumph in her voice. A flick of her wand made the letters rearrange themselves. 

I-N-C-A M-U-M-M-Y G-I-R-L

Complete silence reigned. Everyone was quiet. Then Lee broke the silence by laughing very loudly. This prompted everyone else to burst into raucous cackling at Hermione's apparent insanity. 

"Yeah," Seamus giggled, "And my name rearranges into I'M INSANE ANGUS F. Did you know that?" 

"Cor, you've 'ad too much to drink, love!" Lee chortled. "Yer off yer rocker, darlin'!"

Standing in front of two hundred people who were all laughing at her was not a nice experience. But luckily, Hermione had courage in her convictions. She knew it was rather implausible that her main rival for attention had seemingly been disguising her secret identity as an undead princess for half the term, especially when last month Hermione had insisted to anyone who would listen that Angelina was, in fact, a banshee. But this time she was for real! And she'd be damned if these _cretins _were going to stop her from proving it. 

"Remember that freaky Nvurek thing? How on earth did she know how to kill it? And that scary thing with her eyes... and the lightning? I've read the books, I've done the research. And that is _not _the sort of thing they teach in Peruvian schools. That is serious dark magic! I'm Hermione! I'm _always _right! Remember?" There was a desperate note in her voice now. 

"All I remember was how jealous of her you were!" Seamus called. Hermione seethed. _You little bastard! How come she'd never noticed how much of a twat he was before?_

"Cammy was with Justin tonight!" Hermione yelled, hoping to restore silence. "You all saw them together. And then the next thing we know, Justin is unconscious and left for dead! Has anyone seen her since? Have you?"

Suddenly it went very quiet. 

"Yeah," said Neville, who was white as a sheet and seemed to be looking at something over Hermione's shoulder. "She's right... right behind you." 

Hermione whirled around just in time to see Cammy's contorted face as she came charging towards her. She was holding a golden dagger in each hand, but it was not these fearsome weapons that Hermione needed to worry about. The Mummy's skin was papery and scabrous, hanging off of her bones in washed-out grey flakes and strips. Her teeth were mossy and bared in a grimace, and where her eyes should have been there were only sockets. Hermione would have screamed if she had any air left in her lungs. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. Paralysed by fright, she could put up no resistance as the Inca Princess grabbed her arms in a vice like grip and clamped their mouths firmly together. _EEW. EEEW. EEEEEEEWW! I'm going to be in therapy until I'm thirty! Besides, the girl just didn't know when to stop with the tongues. _Hermione flailed her arms, hoping to find purchase on something. She wrapped her fingers into the mummy's lank, lifeless hair, but it only fell away in dusty clumps when she tugged at it. A most strange sensation threatened to overcome her. Dizzying and nauseating, she felt as though the very essence of herself, her life, was being dragged from her. It was a cold and aching sensation which began under her ribs, right at her heart. She could feel it, like ice, seeping through her bloodstream. Was this it? The end of Hermione Granger? She had expected something like her life to flash before her eyes, but nothing of that sort seemed to be happening. She opened her eyes. The massive noise in the room had sunk to nothing more than a low hum, a background sound. Her vision was blurred, and everything seemed very far away. Why wasn't anyone coming to rescue her? Anyone would do... so long as he was good looking, and a bit sulky. Designer shoes, and a pair of _incredibly _tight... _SWWOOOOSH!_

As though in slow motion an arc of gleaming silver split through the air with a sound that electrified her, and embedded itself into the Mummy's back. The grip on Hermione's arms went limp, and the dry body fell to the floor. Everything was in white-out. 

Hermione looked from the black boot planted firmly on the Mummy's corpse, up the long slender legs wrapped in familiar-looking tight leather, past the... _oooh.... _Over the chest with the tight black T-shirt that showed every taut muscle, and settled on the face of one Mr. Draco Malfoy. He looked stunning, and his long, tapered fingers were clasped around the hilt of an antique sword.

"What did I miss?" he quipped, before letting the sword clatter to the ground and a trembling Hermione collapse into his arms. 

She lay for a long moment staring up at the way his silvery hair fell around his face. 

Her vision was still blurred, and she was more than a little dizzy... but in this strange half light, she could have sworn he had a halo.

*

"Do you think we're nearly there?" Susan asked Hannah nervously as they walked along the roadside. 

"We've - been *huff* walking - for - nearly *wheeze* five - _hours_!" Hannah gasped, clutching a stitch in her side. Unbeknownst to them, they had been walking in a very large circle and were just beginning a third lap of a densely wooded forest. The ground by the road was knee-deep in sludge and slick with rain. This was unfortunate, as a Large Delivery Vehicle chose that moment to come hurtling down the road with a loud roar, sending a tidal wave of muck right over the two hapless travelers as they frantically attempted to dive out of the way. 

"My new top, _ruined_!" Hannah wailed, pulling her face out of a puddle. The skin-tight, fluorescent-orange T-shirt, which had once so proudly proclaimed the timeless epigram of 'Girls Rule',was now soaking wet and plastered to her abundant flab with copious amounts of mud. Susan's attire had been similarly marred by her painful collision with a pine tree. 

"Oh, _no!" _Hannah moaned as she realized she was sitting on the Orangeade, which had split under her colossal weight. The foul, sticky liquid was seeping through her glittery pink poly-nylon trousers. Susan had dropped the multi-bag of 'Party Popperz', all of which met an untimely demise having been saturated to such an extent that they would never pop again.

The helium balloon could be seen drifting slowly and disconsolately skywards, eventually catching on a thorn-bush high above them and popping gently. 

"Oh, well. Maybe it's this way..." Susan picked herself up and offered a bony hand to Hannah, who was still marooned in a puddle.

They started to walk again, both with the sneaking suspicion that yes, they _had _seen that particular tree before about an hour ago... hadn't they? 

*

Pansy strode out of the bathroom just in time to see Draco catch Hermione in his arms.

This time the rage, bitterness and disappointment she felt when she saw her 'boyfriend' and her arch-enemy in an embrace was beyond what words or even shrieks could express. Silently, she pushed her way through the crowds and clambered onto the stage. Pansy stared across at Hermione. Hermione stared up at Draco. Draco was the only one who saw the knife, which sailed through the air right at him. He sidestepped. Cammy's dagger sliced past the side of his head tracing a shallow scratch across his pale cheekbone. The fingers he trailed across the graze came away stained red. 

Pansy screamed. Draco ducked as the second dagger was hurled at him. It was a better aim this time, catching him across the shoulder and embedding itself deeply into his skin. He gritted his teeth as he pulled the golden blade out of his upper arm, falling backwards and clutching his wound tightly. His jaw was clenched with pain and a cold sweat was sticking his silver hair to his forehead. 

Hermione was standing shakily, looking from the coldly furious Pansy to Draco on the floor to Cammy who was leering at her horribly. _I'd do something... only I'm paralysed with fear! _Hermione thought frantically. Suddenly, the Mummy lunged towards Pansy and pulled her into a lethal kiss. Pansy began to kick wildly, whimpering with fright. Hermione sympathised. She knew what it was like to be so close to death, and how the agonising icy tugging at her heart had pained her. Draco was staring at Pansy in alarm. He didn't think her parents would be very pleased if they came home to find their house in ruins _and _their only child deceased. Plus, there was the small matter that he did kind of, in a way... love her. He supposed. Although... he wasn't really into all that sort of soppy stuff. There would be time for that when he was older, and not quite so darned sexy. 

Hermione regained control of her limbs and instantly took charge of the situation. Upending a table, she ripped of one of the heavy metal legs and ran at the Mummy which was crushing Pansy. 

"This is for making my saviour bleed!"

She swung her dangerous weapon at Cammy's back and left a hefty dent. 

"_This _isfor Justin!"

She took another furious swipe, this time caving in Cammy's skull and breaking her feeble vertebrae. The dry head covered with dusty hair flew across the room and landed in the trifle. 

Then, with a last tremendously powerful swing at Cammy's left side, Hermione sent the dry body sailing across the platform and onto a wheeled buffet trolley. 

"And _THAT'S _for ME!" she screamed. Empowerment knew no other definition. 

Only the Mummy's shriveled arms remained, the flaky stumps still clinging to Pansy. Taking one look at these horrific articles touching her skin, Pansy closed her eyes again and fell to the floor in a dead faint. Draco crawled over to her and made sure that she was still breathing, pulling the mummy's arms off of her and lifting her body into a chair.

Hermione drew deep and steady breaths, wiping the beads of perspiration from her forehead. She winked at Draco as she tugged down the hem of her bronze dress and stepped back into her sandals. 

She supposed that maybe she should be reflecting quietly about her own mortality, but... that was no _fun. _She put her arms above her head and leapt into the air, crying triumphantly,

"Alright! I _win_! Hermione Granger 1, bitch Mummy _nil! Yeah!_ I kicked her bitch _ass_!" 

Even those who had disbelieved her at first were cheering now. Draco looked over at her and grinned in admiration. Impulsively, she skipped over to Draco and leapt into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. 

"And I guess _you_ helped, too... a bit," she whispered, delighting him by kissing his nose and trailing a finger down his spine. 

"Yeah... you could say that," Draco replied weakly. "If you wouldn't mind, though... my arm kind of... hurts..."

"Oh, God! I'm sorry. I totally forgot. Here, let me get that." She tore a long strip of bronze from the already indecently short hem of her dress and wound it tightly around his arm. 

"That should be okay, for now. I'll see to it properly..._later_." Her message was clear. Draco beamed. 

"I'll look forward to it."

Just as the crowd seemed to be settling again, the impressive Grandfather Clock rather obscurely struck a marathon sixty-eight chimes in ten seconds before opening in a sinister way and revealing its contents to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher Horace Latchkopf. The large trifle which had earlier been the recipient of Cammy's head yielded his partner, Boris Rottinoff. 

"You?!" said Hermione. "What are _you _doing here?" _Jeez. It always got bad when teachers turned up. _

"Ve are here because of her!" they said in unnecessary unison, pointing to what remained of Cammy's body. It was still on the trolley.

"Why?" Hermione asked, sounding sarcastic. "Was she late handing in homework?"

Boris explained further. 

"Ve are not all zat ve seem. Ve haff, how you say, been pulling your foot. You haff been hoodlewinked by our clever disguises. For ve are in fact-" They pulled off their pinstriped suits to reveal a full-on black ensemble complete with a cape. Emblazoned across the chest was the acronym PIMSA.

"Like the outfits," Hermione said, looking genuinely concerned about their mental health. "What does PIMSA stand for?" 

"Ve are the Peruvian Inca Mummy Spotter's Association," said Horace. "Ve haff been tailing 'Cammy' for many years. Vhen ve found out she vas coming to 'Ogvarts, ve got ze jobs there. But it seems ve vere too late to help you."

"We were managing just fine on our own, thanks," Hermione shot back. "One disgusting, wrinkly, decapitated mummy corpse on the house."

"Ja. You did very vell. But... did you know that if you had left her, in one hour she would gather herself back to full strength and regrow her lost body parts?"

"Er... no. And does that strike anyone else as... _eeew?_"

"Vell, it is true. Vill you allow us to...?" Horace gestured towards a complicated bit of machinery with flashing mulitcoloured lights, which Boris was attempting to set up. 

"Yeah... sure." Unless Hermione was very much mistaken, the interesting looking contraption seemed to be playing a tinny version of the Peruvian National Anthem which sounded like all of its charm had been surgically removed. 

"That looks like a... _flame-thrower!" _Hermione had to yell to make herself heard over the huge roar of the twenty-foot burst of fire engulfing the Mummy. The force of the weapon sent the trolley complete with flaming corpse smashing through the glass patio doors and trundling into the swimming pool where it ended its spectacular journey in a mass of steaming, hissing, twisted wreckage. 

"Cool!" said Ron. 

* 

Hannah and Susan huddled closer still, hoping to generate more warmth by keeping their bodies closer together. It was very cold down in the muddy ditch where they had decided to spend the night. It seemed they would be missing the party they had been so looking forward to. Hannah had eaten all of their rations (which was only half a packet of mouldy Polos,) and now they had no food between them except a fluffy liquorice allsort which had been festering in the bottom of Susan's handbag since last Christmas. Hannah was even now eyeing it greedily. 

The moon slid behind a dark cloud. From the depths of the forest _(which was probably full of magical creatures, _Susan thought, _being on the Parkinson Estate. Or at least, I think that's where we are...) _came the baying of hungry _things. Things _which might be very interested in eating live human flesh, especially when it came in a plentiful form like Hannah Abbot. It was pitch dark. Susan reached for the Liquorice Allsort, and was surprised to find it had mysteriously disappeared. Through the darkness she could hear the sound of munching. Then, a few seconds later, came Hannah's low and rumbling snores, which grated on her brain like a thousand knives being scraped together. _It was going to be a long night... _

*

Draco smoothed the covers over Pansy's slumbering form and slipped quietly out of the room, locking the door behind him with his wand. He had left a large pile of food by Pansy's bed and charmed it so that the door would only release her when she had eaten her way through the whole lot. Sometimes, you had to be cruel to be kind. Her attempted anorexia was prone to fail every time she got hungry, and he didn't usually have to worry. It was just that... after what she had been through, he wanted to make sure she got her strength back. 

He had changed his 'action gear' for some smarter clothes, and was now free to go off and, hopefully, get off. The party was back into full swing now, the band once again playing at top volume and the dubious cocktails flowing by the gallon. But it was not towards the noise and excitement that he turned, but rather down the dim-lit corridor to a certain room in which he knew that he would be enjoying himself very much.

He pushed open the door and found it to be pleasantly warm, and so steamy inside that he could hardly see. The deep, spacious Jacuzzi bath which was sunk into the centre of the tiled floor was full and sparkling invitingly. Sitting in the water was Hermione, who was wearing nothing but bubbles and filing her nails nonchalantly. 

"Are you lost?" she said, looking up at him and raising an eyebrow. 

"Actually, I-"

"Come here." She purred. 

"O-okay," Draco assented readily. "Why?"

She waited until he was standing right by her before making her move. Grabbing his tie she pulled him towards her and whispered in his ear.

"You're just like a glass of Vodka, Draco Malfoy. Strong, pale... and guaranteed to get me flat on my back every time."

Draco gulped. Hermione, inspired by Cho's earlier example, pulled Draco into the water. He sat up, wet and spluttering slightly. Even in such an attractive situation, he still had time to spare a thought for his Armani outfit. Which was dry-clean only. He started to unbutton his soaking white shirt, which was plastered to him. 

"Leave that to me," Hermione said, deftly running her fingers down the row of buttons and sliding the material back over his shoulders. He tensed as she pulled the shirt off of his arms - his wound had been deep and was obviously still hurting him. 

"This needs to be cleaned," she said practically, dipping a soft cloth into the water and touching it to his arm. He winced.

"Ouch!"

"I'm sorry... but it needs to be done," she instructed, matter-of-factly. She daubed at it until the cut was clean, soothing his pain with tiny butterfly kisses over his neck which seemed to appease him. She was just putting the finishing touches to the dressing of the wound when he put his hand firmly over her own and stopped her from administering to him any further. She dropped the washcloth in surprise as he kissed her, hard. A while later, she pulled away. 

"Feeling better?"

"Absolutely," he said, covering her mouth with his own again and loosening his trousers. 

*

"Damage report?" Blaise asked Lee, with more than a hint of trepidation. This party _had _been his brainchild, after all. He felt at least a teeny bit of responsibility for what travesties may have occurred to the valuable and antiquated seventeenth-century manor house. 

"Weeeeeell..." Lee took a deep breath and nervously slid a finger under his shirt collar, which felt too tight all of a sudden. "The garden has been trampled-"

"If anyone asks ya, it was the Horklumps, right?" was Blaise's solution to this. 

"Er... there is a smouldering Inca Mummy minus some limbs in the pool, which also contains Ron's piss. And god knows what else."

"Insurance'll cover that... won't it?" Blaise pondered. 

"There is vomit in the Koi Fish Pond, there are moustaches and glasses drawn on all of the Renoirs, and someone has taken a dump in the Master Bedroom."

"Anything else?" said Blaise, who had gone rather pale. 

"Not really... just lots of vol-au-vents on the floor, the antique tapestries have been torched, there's mud on the white deep-pile carpets, Salazar Slytherin has a condom hangin' off his nose, the second bedroom wall now says 'TEZ SHAGGED MANDY 'ERE' in a distasteful orange colour, the Siamese Cat is now a Manx Cat, and... the torture chamber is being used by some 5th years doing body piercing. The Iron Maiden's got an 'ole in 'er bottom an' the 'Cat o' Nine Tails' is currently eight and an' 'alf tails short."

Blaise started to wander off in search of something strong to drink, mumbling something vague about 'clearing it up in the morning.' 

"Wait!" Lee shouted, "I haven't told you about the ten-pin bowling with the Ming Vases yet!"

***

__

The Morning

***

Hannah awoke to find Susan licking her face. Oh, no. It wasn't Susan. It was a coyote. Pushing it away hurriedly, she sat up stiffly. Her clothes were muddy and covered with spiders, she had been sleeping on an ants nest, a dog had left a nasty mess in Susan's handbag and worst of all, they had no food. Susan was already awake, and had been attempting to light a fire for almost three hours by rubbing two damp twigs together. They finally caught alight and produced a tiny flame, which was promptly extinguished after a tiny gust of wind decided to blow. 

"Oh, _poo_," Susan expectorated (quite rudely, she thought), shivering in her damp nylon T-shirt. _It was going to be one of those days... again._

*

"What happened?" Moaned Draco blearily, rubbing his eyes and sitting up in the magnificent four-poster bed. After several heavy drinking games the two of them must have decided to relocate to somewhere they _wouldn't _keep banging their heads. 

Next to him, Hermione rolled over and looked up at him with a vague grin. 

"I remember betting you I could climb up the wall... using only my lips," she reminded him, helpfully.

"Oh, yeah! That was right after I... did I really, um...?"

"Yep. Right in my ear, if I remember rightly."

"Oh." He looked rather chuffed. "Cool."

"You know... I don't get it," Draco said, shifting his arm so that Hermione could nestle into it more comfortably. "We're in an unplottable, seventeenth century manor house which is fifty miles away from civilisation in any form. Will you please explain to me just _how _I got this traffic cone?"

"Hey, it's not a good night unless you get a traffic cone," Hermione told him, closing her eyes blissfully and snuggling up to him. "It's the policeman's helmet and the Sock Suspenders _I _don't get."

*

End of Part Five

A/N: Phew… fluffy enough for ya? ***grins* **Now… go review! Please! Your comments are always very, very much appreciated. Oh, and if the Evils of Microsoft Word's Spellchecker have made any ridiculously inappropriate replacements by accident at any point in this fic, then… do you think you could point them out when you review? It would be very helpful. I've checked it once, but you never know, I may have missed one. Or two. Or five...

See you for part 6… and keep an eye out for some of Drosera's GenX Art which will be on our spangly, shiny new website sooooon, we hope. We'll keep anyone who cares posted with the address, probably on our bio page or on the community connector if I work out how to use it. ^^ Love, Aurora. 


	6. Cheerleading, Charity and Chicanery

****

Generation X Spring Term - Part Six

Authors' Note: Aurora and Drosera would like to take this opportunity to apologise very sincerely to anyone who has been waiting for this part since Summer 2001. There is no real excuse for taking as long as we did, and we promise that we will try our best to get the subsequent parts out more quickly. We only hope that the increase in length, plot, sex and Quidditch in this part makes up for any grievance caused. ^_~

***

Late spring sunlight fell in slanted beams over the courtyard, highlighting the mossy stonework and casting long shadows behind the gargoyles and statues on the lawn. It was early evening, and after a hard first day back at school, most of the students were relaxing outside.

"Um, Alicia...hi! Ron here, don't know if you remember me... I'm that good looking rebel who stole your heart in the swimming pool!"

Alicia turned away from her group of friends and looked at the gangly ginger boy who was tugging insistently at her sleeve. 

"What was that? Sorry, didn't quite catch it." 

Four of the blonde girl's stunning friends were also listening attentively. Taking a deep breath, Ron's words came tumbling out in rapid succession.

"Do you sleep on your stomach? Can I?"

All of the girls burst into uncontrollable laughter at his truly awful chat-up line. 

This was not the reaction he had expected. _Maybe she didn't get it. _He decided to try again. Three times. 

"Is that a ladder in your tights or the stairway to heaven? Did it hurt, when you fell from heaven? Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk past again?"

Hermione, Alicia, Katie, Angelina and Cho were clutching their sides. 

Ron really didn't see what was so funny. He'd spent _ages _working on his timing. It _had _to work. 

He'd really fancied Alicia since the party during the holidays, and was convinced that she felt the same way however deep down she was concealing it. It was only the first day back at school but he'd decided to get in there early and try to score. Time for 'plan B.'

He handed her a small package wrapped in slightly battered wrapping paper that had quite obviously been used before. In fact, it still had a tag on it which read '_Dearest Ronnikins - Merry Christmas from Auntie Margie' _- or it had done, before it had been badly crossed out with fluorescent orange highlighter pen. 

"Er... thanks?" Alicia said, flicking her hair over her shoulder and pulling at the sellotape cautiously. "Do you want me to open this now?"

"Keen, eh? I like that in a woman!"

She shrugged and looked at her friends as if they might be able to tell her what exactly was going on. As their faces were blank (though Hermione still looked like she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing) she gingerly pulled off the wrappings and examined the contents. Inside were several small shiny packages all bearing the message; 

"Sir Shaggalot's Seriously Kinky Condoms - _The Man in Your Life just got More Manly!"_

"Um... it's a nice gesture and all, but...why on earth would I want them?" asked Alicia. 

"You mean you don't want protection against unwanted pregnancy and STIs?!" said Ron, looking absolutely bewildered. "Don't you practise safe sex? I only got them in the _Everything's a Knut _shop, but they've got the British Kite Mark on them, look. Well made _and _safe."

"Um... its not _quite_ like that. I appreciate your concern, I really do. Its just that... I'm not in _that kind_ of relationship at the moment."

"You soon could be," said Ron, "if you went out with _me_!"

"Oh, I'm already in a relationship," Alicia corrected him, "just not one where I'd have a use for _those._" This caused Hermione to whisper something into her ear. Alicia's eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly for a moment and she smiled. 

"Or... I might. But not the way you had in mind."

"Not for sex?" Ron wondered aloud. "But then... how...? Ooooh, I get it! You're going to piss in it and then throw it off a bridge at a car! Me and my mates did that once. It was really cool. Just make sure you check the direction of the wind, first, and then-"

"Would you please shut up?" said Katie Bell impatiently. "The only thing Alicia is likely to do with those condoms is shove them up your arse. Now piss off."

Ron looked hurt, but he took her advice and left. How did the saying go? _If at first you don't succeed, try, try again... _

*

Lee was feeling very pleased with himself. 

After Hermione had broken up with him and accidentally exposed his black-market sex shop, he had decided it was time for Jordan Enterprises to go public, if not entirely legitimate. 

To do this, he needed some staff, and had decided to offer a cut of any profits to anyone he could induce to help him. Nothing much was happening at school, and he hoped he could use the lull in events to make some serious cash from his business. 

As Hermione felt bad about what she'd done, and she too felt she needed some excitement (as well as the extra cash) it wasn't hard for Lee to persuade her to come on board as his marketing director. This would mean getting to play around with advertising, something she enjoyed immensely. Her ability to communicate well with other students and her popularity were definite bonuses to Lee, who often found he had trouble relating to the female half of the student body. 

The other person he asked was a longtime friend of his, Blaise Zabini. Blaise was popular and very likeable, and he was the lead singer and guitarist for Hogwarts' only decent band. He also had a real flair for mathematics, and although he was already fairly well-off, he agreed readily to act as Lee's Financial Advisor. Hermione and Blaise had not met properly before, though they had of course heard of each other. Hermione remembered Blaise both for the stripping incident at the Pantomime and for his alleged fathering of Parvati's baby. And _everyone _knew Hermione – the ubiquitous girl managed to get involved in almost everything that ever happened at Hogwarts. 

With two such influential and trustworthy people under his employment, Lee was full of enthusiasm and excitement at the prospect of turning his hand to _real _business. Only time would tell quite how successfully – or disastrously – his plans would unfold.

* 

Four figures sat in stony silence in front of a fire that was making a valiant effort to crackle cheerfully. It was early evening on Saturday night, and Harry, Dean, Ron and Seamus were at a very loose end. The beginning of term always dragged a bit, and nothing interesting had presented itself for their entertainment. 

"What shall we do then?" Ron said brightly. "How about tiddlywinks? Ping! Scoooore! And Ron wins for the fifth time in a row! Or..." he tailed off, spying the incredulous looks on his friends' faces, "...maybe not." 

"This is fuckin' borin', this is!" Dean remarked helpfully. 

"We could play charades! Or Cluedo! You can be Miss Scarlett, Dean! Everyone _always _wants to be her! I want to be Reverend Green!"

Harry and Seamus exchanged looks, but Ron was oblivious. He skipped away happily to fetch the battered box of board games. 

*

"Keep your head in the game, Harry. It's all about fear... and control. Reach into your heart, and - OW!" Ron was cut short by a blow to the shoulder from Dean. 

"You know, there's really no need for violent behaviour. Just because you can't think of a witty retort. You _poo_!" Ron muttered as an afterthought, looking impressed at his word power. 

Harry raised his head from where it had been resting sleepily on the Chinese Chequers board and looked at his friend. "Ron, we are playing Snap. How can Snap be about 'fear and control'?" 

"Do not question the Snap Master, Harry." Ron looked smug until Dean smashed him on the _other _shoulder. Finally taking the hint, the ginger boy retreated into the corner whimpering. 

"Look." Dean said authoritatively. "We are just going to sit here, in fuckin' silence, until one of you bitches thinks of somethin' good to do. Alright?" Nobody questioned him. In fact, Harry had already begun to dribble blearily onto the Chess Set.

"We can try _basket weaving!_" Ron exclaimed, in a flash of inspiration. Dean hit him. 

*

Cho put her sleeping bag on the floor of the Gryffindor Girls' dorm and climbed inside, snuggling up to the warm, quilted material. Parvati and Lavender had gone out for the evening, so Hermione had invited her to stay the night. Any delusions the Ravenclaw girl may have had about it being a cordial and friendly affair just for the fun of it were quickly dispelled when Hermione began to pick her brains about the duties and responsibilities of being Head Girl.

"So what do you actually _do_?" asked Hermione. It was one of those things she'd never been quite sure about.

"I boss people around, enjoy the privileges... 50% discount at Gladrags is probably the best part of the job."

"_Fifty percent_?! No wonder it's so popular. I could never really see why so many girls fought for the title of 'Miss Goody-Two-Shoes of Hogwarts', but... I'm starting to understand."

"Yeah, well… it's one of the only real perks. If you ask me, it's a lot of hard work for pretty much nothing. But then, I've been doing it for a year now. I'm disillusioned."

"Very funny. You know if it was allowed you'd stand again this year."

"Maybe I would, but as I can't it's not really an issue." Cho picked up an emery board and began to file her nails. "So, I take it you're thinking about putting a campaign together?"

"Well... yeah. You guessed it."

"And you've asked me here to beg for my help and experience?"

"Oops, you saw through my cunning plan," said Hermione sarcastically. "Of course I want your help. You're the resident expert."

"True, true..." agreed Cho, grinning. "But what makes you think I haven't already been approached by dozens of other young novices just desperate for my advice?"

Hermione arched one slim eyebrow and stared incredulously at Cho.

"Okay, okay... so maybe you're the first," Cho admitted, "but my services do not come free of charge."

"You know, if you were a guy then this would be the easiest thing in the world," Hermione said, smiling archly. "I don't suppose the same tactics are likely to work on you?"

"Offering me a sexual favour is unlikely to produce the desired result, if that answers your question," replied Cho.

"Even though I give a great Thai massage?... manicure, pedicure, _lapdance_?" 

Cho shook her head. 

"Prude. If you had balls then you'd be putty in my hands," said Hermione ruefully. "What do you want, then?"

"Ah... what a question," said Cho, leaning back onto her pillow. "I have Hermione Granger at my disposal, begging for help-"

"Begging? At what point did you hear me _beg_?"

"_Asking nicely_ for help, and she wants me to name my price."

"I know you're loving this. Just get on with it. Come on, anything. I'll do it."

Cho thought for a moment. 

"Remember ages ago, when McGonagall caught me and Harry in the showers?"

"How could I forget?"

"Well, she gave me a lifetime's worth of detentions which I still haven't finished. I had to clean out all of the teachers' private quarters, one by one. I've managed to do all of them except Dumbledore's."

"Saving the best 'til last?"

"Hardly. Rumour has it he's into granny-porn."

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEW! That _exists_?"

"Apparently so. I didn't much fancy cleaning up underneath _his _bed. So that little task is reserved for you."

"How very kind," said Hermione through gritted teeth. She was considering Cho's offer carefully.

"Okay, I'll do it. But in return, you have to pledge your allegiance to me. _You_ back me up, _you_ put in the good words, _you_ help me work the publicity, _you_ pull the goddamn strings. You mess me up and Dumbledore's plughole clogs are going in _your _panty-drawer. Got that?"

"Whatever," said Cho breezily, "It'll be a cinch anyway. McGonagall _loves _you since the pantomime. God knows why, as your behaviour as of late has hardly been angelic."

"What are you insinuating?" squealed Hermione in mock innocence.

"I suppose making out with person or persons anonymous in the library for _three hours _under poor Harry's cloak, setting fire to Lee's boxer shorts, being caught sneaking out of school grounds with Alicia four nights in a row and swapping Seamus' toothpaste for a tube of contraceptive jelly are all part of a normal week for you, huh?"

Hermione giggled. "I guess."

"You are _impossible,_" said Cho, pulling a pyjama-clad Hermione onto the floor and hugging her. 

Silence reigned. According to the laws of filmic cliché, there should have been a ball of tumbleweed blowing disconsolately across the deserted floor. The only sound was a slow _click... click... click_. Desperate times called for desperate measures… and Dean had taken up knitting. 

"Nice frock you've got there, Dean," Seamus remarked as he returned from the bathroom. "Just your colour, too."

"Oh, thanks. I got the wool in Hogsmeade. There's a charming haberdashery shop just next to- hey... are you fuckin' takin' the piss?" Seamus paled and shook his head violently. "Good. Better not be, or I'll..." he left the threat unfinished, having got to a particularly tricky stage in the 'KORN' pattern. Silence was again resumed, broken only by an occasional _knit one, purl one, knit one, purl one _from Dean. 

*

"Okay," said Cho, opening up her Flipchart and fishing out a marker pen. "Hermione Granger's Head Girl Campaign starts here."

"It does?"

"Yes. I spent ages on this, so please do me the courtesy of listening."

"Sorry. Go on."

"Ahem. Right. Okay, to win the elections in the Summer Term, you need to do three things _now_. They are; one, to show your awareness of the importance and benefits of an extra-curricular activity, two-" Cho stopped when Hermione started laughing. 

"Cho, honey, I get _plenty_ of extra-curricular 'activity'. And I'm _fully_ aware of the benefits. For example, did you know that every time you orgasm, your body releases immune-boosting hormones which help prevent colds and 'flu in the winter months?"

"Which explains why you've had a perfect medical record since you were 12."

"Oooh, harsh. You're just jealous 'cause you didn't come until you were 17."

"Can we _please _change the subject?" cut in Cho, blushing slightly, "and I was 16, and I _so _wish I'd never told you that."

Hermione just smiled in an 'I win' kind of way. 

"If I may continue? Two, you have to show interest and concern for the School Environment and take steps to improve it wherever possible."

"Does that translate into Hermi-speak as _tidying up_?" Hermione's only real experience in this field involved shoving everything that could be constituted as 'mess' into a black bin bag in the hazy aftermath of a party. It had _not _been pleasant. 

"It means tidying up after others as well as yourself. Which is just perfect, considering you'll be cleaning out the Heateacher's chamber pot for the next two weeks."

"Yeah, with your new Dolce & Gabbana top, if you don't stop rubbing that in _right now_." 

"Calm down, Herm. How bad can it be?" Cho tactfully chose to ignore the death-stare that was being directed at her and pressed on. "Three, you need to make a good impression on and have good relations with _all_ of the staff on the Hogwarts pay-list."

"Shouldn't be a problem," said Hermione flippantly, "I'm still an A+ student."

"This includes _out _of the classroom," reminded Cho. "So no more booking in Professor Sprout for experimental haemorrhoid surgery."

"She looked as though she could do with a little work!" Protested Hermione. "And besides, that was Draco's idea. He just didn't have the balls to do it."

Hermione reached the top of the winding spiral staircase and knocked tentatively at the door. 

"Enter," croaked an old voice she knew belonged to Dumbledore. She stepped into the circular dimly-lit room and saw the Headteacher emerging from an adjoining room. 

"Ah! Miss Granger, what a very pleasant surprise!" he exclaimed, his cheeks turning pink. 

__

Not for me, Hermione thought, eyeing his purple dressing gown suspiciously. She could see two hairy white ankles protruding from the bottom and couldn't help wondering if he had anything on underneath.

"And, er, what brings such a _pretty girl _here to see an old man like me on a night like this, eh?" His blue eyes twinkled at her in a manner that some may have interpreted as charming. To Hermione it just seemed extremely perverted. 

"Actually, I'm _not_ here to see you," she said. He looked crestfallen. "I'm here to clean the bathroom."

"I was under the impression that this was Miss Chang's duty," said Dumbledore. "And I was just about to take a bath. But," he winked at her, "You're welcome to, er, proceed with your cleaning if you wish. Ahem." 

Hermione could not possibly have looked more shocked or disgusted. Or she thought she couldn't, but that was before he began to loosen his robe in a provocative way and confirm her suspicions about his lack of undergarments. Before she could cop an eyeful of his pale, wrinkly flesh, she turned on her heel and fled. 

*

"He came on to you?" Cho said incredulously. "He never tried that with me."

"Yeah, well you're welcome to him," Hermione replied. "I've never felt more nauseous in my life. Ever since I accidentally stuck my foot in his crotch, which could of course have happened to anybody, he's had a _thing _for me. It's as though he thinks I like him." 

"Which, you don't, I presume?"

"How about _NO! _OAP's with wrinkly hard-ons are not my type."

"Okay, okay. Though you've got to admit, he's lucky to still be able to, y'know, perform. He's, what, 300?"

"He probably guzzles Viagra like after dinner mints. Not that I want to be thinking about that," Hermione said quickly, turning slightly green. 

"You'd just better hope he leaves you alone next time," Cho said, giggling. 

"_Next time_?!" You cannot seriously think I'm going back there," Hermione protested.

"Then _you _cannot seriously think that _I _am going to put in that 'good word' with McGonagall. You know I could get into serious trouble for favouring a student like that and you know I don't come cheap."

Hermione wordlessly realised she had finally met someone almost as cruelly scheming and self-interested as herself. She admired that in a girl. 

"Oh, fine." Hermione conceded, "but if anything happens to me I am suing you for all you got." 

"Take pepper spray!" Called Cho to her friend's retreating back. 

"I hate you." said Hermione, closing the door behind her. 

*

The door to the common room burst open and Ron skipped in, clutching an armful of Riverdance tapes. 

"I just borrowed these from Hannah Abbot. I thought we could have a jolly old knees-up!" Then he spied Dean's knitting. 

"Haha! Dean, you're _gay_!"

Dean threw the offending knitting aside and stood up, looking severely menacing.

"What did you say, Ron?"

Ron quavered slightly, thinking hard. 

"I think what we have here is a slight case of creative mishearing. You see, I didn't say _Dean, you're gay. _I said... um... Dean, you're G_reat - h_EY!"

Dean couldn't have looked more sceptical if Slipknot had abandoned their music careers and become the hosts of a women's home shopping channel. 

"So..." said Ron, hastily attempting to change the subject, "anyone for a clog dance?"

*

Dumbledore rinsed the shampoo from his mane of silver hair, thinking hard.

__

So, he was 'nearly 300' was he? 'Getting on a bit'? Dumbledore knew that most of his staff already thought he was incompetent and incapable at his age, but he could have done without his students making derogatory comments regarding his sexual prowess, or apparent lack of it. Miss Granger had clearly not been impressed by her last visit to his room, so this time he had made more of an effort to tidy up. He wanted to look smart and handsome for her. He _knew _he was still young and sprightly. And he was sure he could prove it, if not to her and the others, then to himself. 

As he lay ruminating in the tub of foaming water, he found himself remembering a little trick he had perfected as a boy. Could he still manage it? Wounded pride and an irrational urge to prove himself told him, _yes_. And it was sure to impress Miss Granger. 

Crouching on all fours, he prepared himself for the task ahead. Executing a perfect forward roll while in the bath would be tricky, but not impossible. Time for a practise run. 

Balancing carefully on his rickety legs, he leaned forward... a little further... further... until... _oh no! _He had inadvertently gone too far. Unable to stop the inevitable, he tucked in his head and attempted to roll. However, halfway through, something went terribly wrong. His head got lodged under the weight of his body and he quickly realised he was trapped and unable to get his respiratory orifices above the waterline. He was going to drown! Feeling scared and suddenly feeble, he began to gurgle for help as loudly as he could. 

*

The second time Hermione ascended the hidden staircase leading to the Headteacher's office, she didn't have to knock on the door. It was already open and the room was warm and steam-filled. The glow of candles gave a soft, romantic air to the room. Or it would have done, if she was not so painfully aware of the horror that awaited her within. 

"Um, hello?" she called. When there was no reply, she called out again. "Hello? Is anybody there?"

She received no response save for a quiet gurgling sound that seemed to be coming from the adjoining bathroom. Listening intently, she thought the gurgling sounded a bit like, 

"Hgggggrrrrrrrrrrlp! HGGGRRRRRRRLP!" It was louder now, and frantic. Somebody was definitely in trouble. 

She dropped her bucket of soapy water and dashed into the bathroom. What she saw was extremely disturbing and put her in a very awkward dilemma. In the tub, Dumbledore seemed to have got himself lodged in a painful and complex position that involved his limbs being trapped, his rear end being in the air and his head being completely immersed in the water. It was he that was making the strange gurgling sound. He desperately needed assistance - he was drowning. But helping him would mean touching his naked flesh! Hermione stood for a moment paused in indecision, but one more look at his splayed legs and his helpless state left her no choice. She grabbed hold of a bony ankle and pulled firmly until he was sitting upright looking extremely dazed and severely short of breath. Spluttering and gasping, he blinked up at his saviour before collapsing into her arms. 

Hermione couldn't help dropping him on the floor in disgust before she started screaming for help. 

*

"I've got somethin' important to tell ya," Lee said quietly to his new marketing director.

"Oh really?" said an interested Hermione. "Gossip?"

"Yeah, but... you can't tell anyone. It's about Parvati."

"Go on," she prompted, keen to know more.

"Well... you know I had a party... a long time ago now?"

"That's where she got pregnant, right?"

"Right. See, at the moment, she's trying to bring up the baby all on her own, and… she doesn't know who the father is."

"Yes she does. She told me it was Blaise... Blaise Zabini."

"I know she did. But it's not true. You haven't heard the whole story."

"I haven't?" Hermione prided herself on being first with _all _the breaking news. She couldn't help feeling slightly offended that Lee Jordan was telling her something she hadn't already heard. 

"She was so smashed that night that she didn't know _what _she'd done, let alone who with. There were a lot of dodgy geezers at that party. None of it was, er, anything to do with me, mind. But, y'know, these things 'appen."

"Evidently," said Hermione coolly. "Get on with it... what _does _Blaise have to do with this?"

"I found her in one of the bedrooms. She'd passed out." Blaise strode in at that moment, his black leather coat swishing impressively behind him. His chin-length fine black hair fell into his face and he had a habit of tucking it behind his multiply-pierced ears that was extremely fetching. Hermione eyed him with interest, especially when she saw his manly dragon-hide boots. He was wearing a black long-sleeved T-shirt with another one over the top, and the black jeans that covered his long legs were tattered. In her opinion, he looked _fantastic. _

"Um... hi. I'm Hermione Granger, Marketing Director of Jordan Enterprises. I've heard a lot about you." She extended her hand. He looked surprised but flattered. He took her manicured hand in his own and shook it. 

"Likewise. I'm Blaise Zabini, Financial Advisor to Mr. Jordan, at your service," He said, smiling broadly as he mimicked her formal tone. He spoke with a vague New Zealand accent which she found very appealing. In fact, she was so overcome by his manner and his appearance that she found herself lost for words. _She had to say something, quick! _

"So, uh… you're from the Southern Hemisphere, right? What's it like with it being all sunny at Christmas?" _Oh my God. Did I just say that?! What is wrong with you, Hermi? _

If Blaise thought her question was strange he hid it remarkably well and didn't skip a beat before he answered.

"It's cool. Last time I was there I made my parents do the whole stereotypical thing… it could've been right off of _Neighbours_. We surfed… I was really into that. Oh, and we held a big barbeque on the beach. Some of my friends and I had a band together back then, so we did a set on the sand."

Hermione was impressed.

"Wow! Here it's all with the snow and the rain and the cold... yours sounds way better."

"I'll have to take you there sometime... it kicks."

"I may well hold you to that," she replied, flashing him a grin. She was _definitely _interested. 

"Alright, Blaise?" said Lee, cutting in. He still thought of Hermione as 'his' and didn't like to see this young upstart flirting with her. Blaise nodded apologetically in acknowledgement. 

"Sorry, I'll get back to the story. So, as I was saying... I found Parvati. She was in pretty bad shape. I picked her up, brought her back here and kept her with me that night. When she woke up, I asked her what had happened. She couldn't remember a thing. Well, when it turned out a few weeks later that she was pregnant, the first thing she thought was that it was my baby. That's a load of bullshit, I never touched her. But I can see why she thought I might have done. She came to me and told me the whole story about not being allowed an abortion. I finally convinced her I'd had nothing to do with it and I promised to help her. We decided we'd pretend the baby was mine, just to get her parents off of her back. I guess that's why she told the same story to you."

Hermione nodded. "I see. But... why are you telling me this?"

"We have a plan. Lee feels terrible that this happened at one of his shindigs, and like I told you, I promised to help her. She can't possibly survive as a single parent without more cash. So... we need to get some."

"And... where exactly do I come into this?" Hermione asked Lee suspiciously. "If you think I am going to star in any more of your low-down, disgusting, despicable, revolting films, then-"

"I can assure you, babe, that if I were going to make any more footage of that sort, then it would be for my viewing pleasure, and my viewing pleasure _only._" 

"Which is _so _reassuring."

"Look, I don't quite know how you're going to help yet. But you agreed to be part of my business for this term, and if I need your help, I have to know that you'll give it."

"Sure. I'll help. And..." she looked at Blaise, "I'm glad you're not the cheating love-rat I thought you were. I have to go now."

Smiling, she left the room.

*

Hermione pinned the last of her posters onto the wall and grinned. After another long discussion with Cho, she had started to make real headway with her Head Girl campaign. As well as getting some fabulous publicity shots done, she had decided how to fulfil the first part of the requirements – to show that she was aware of the importance and benefits of an extra – curricular activity. Her idea was original, daring and fashionable – it was bound to be a success. Besides, didn't every teenage girl dream of being a Cheerleader? 

*

"Ginny? Ginny, wait up!" Harry called. The diminutive girl turned around to see a flushed Harry who had been jogging after her for some time.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Look, I - er... well..."

"Spit it out, will you?"

"That night at the party, when you were, y'know, and we, y'know, and it was all very confusing and strange? Well, I wanted to say that I never, ever, ever want to hurt you or be mean to you or take advantage of you and I am so, so ashamed of myself and you're younger than me and you were probably a virgin and if Ron ever found out he'd kick my - well he'd _try_ to kick my arse and I feel like such a rat and a coward and I never meant to be unfaithful to Cho and I was drunk and so were you and it was the biggest mistake of my life and I haven't been able to sleep for thinking about it and if you can find it in your heart to accept my sincerest and deepest apologies then I would be eternally grateful and I'd love you forever but of course not in a romantic kind of way-"

"Harry... " Ginny cut in, looking very amused. "I know this may be a new experience for you but I can assure you that it was _not _the first time I have got very drunk and slept with somebody I shouldn't have."

Harry's eyes almost fell out of his head in shock. 

"And yes, I will find it in my heart to accept your deepest and sincerest apologies but only on the condition that you find it in your heart to stop being such a fucking _pussy_!"

Dean, who was nearby, was looking at Harry with sympathy and Ginny with extreme admiration. 

"Now, I think the person you should _really _be apologising to is Cho, because one, you cheated on her royally, and two, if your performance with her is anything near as bad as it was with me, then you have a lot to be sorry for."

Harry chose that moment to leave, trying to fight back tears and wishing that Ginny had been a lot drunker. 

*

Hannah squeezed her fat bottom into the tiny gym skirt that had been supplied as sports kit. Her upper half was already bulging out of a sleeveless, belly-revealing T-shirt. Her short blonde hair was scraped back into a greasy and unflattering ponytail that made her pudgy face look rounder and shinier than ever. Tryouts for Hermione's cheerleading team were this afternoon. Hannah was sure that if she got a place, everyone would like and respect her. Picking up her pom-poms, she looked at herself one last time in the mirror. 

"You can do it," she told herself. "You can show them all that you've got talent."

Suddenly her confident facade slipped and her chins started to wobble. "Why don't they ever see that? Why are they always so mean to me? I always try to be nice!" A solitary tear slid over her red cheek. 

"No, wait," she told herself firmly. "Mummy always says how lovely I look when I dance. She always tells me I'm pretty. Maybe I should listen to her instead of giving in to peer pressure. Who says you have to be thin, anyway?" She wiped her bulbous nose vigorously with a lacy handkerchief. "I am Hannah Abbot. I am beautiful. I am talented. I can dance. I am cool. I am a sorted sista. A laid-back hippy chick." It seemed that reading all those girly magazines had paid off. She actually started to feel good about herself. 

Now, there was just time for one more cream puff, for good luck. She delved hungrily into the bakery box that was delivered to her door every day by owl. She picked out a sticky, sugary, cream-filled pastry and began to eat.

* 

The Great Hall was full of the sound of 1143 students eating, gossiping and generally relaxing in the middle of a day's lessons. Ron pushed open the heavy doors and strutted in, feeling on top of the world. He had just blown his entire birthday savings on a new outfit he felt sure would attract Alicia's attention. _Ah, there was his blonde goddess now. _Sitting at the head of the Gryffindor table with her friends, the long-legged, slim, highly attractive girl was giggling as she sipped milkshake through a curly straw. _She's perfect! _Ron gazed at her raptly as she shook her mane of straight, honey blonde hair over one shoulder. She really was exquisitely beautiful... she reminded him of Fleur in a lot of ways. 

Ron took one last look at his new clothes. In his opinion, he had chosen an eclectic ensemble comprised of garments from such stores as _Knutworld, Everything's a Knut, KnutStretcher, Knutland_ and_ Crazy Meg's Knut Bin_. He prided himself on having spent wisely and he'd even had enough money left to buy some cologne. Despite some unfavourable comments, such as "What is that, Eau de Yak Urine?" from Blaise, he was confident that he smelt divine and was, in fact, a walking aphrodisiac. 

Unfortunately, it didn't seem like Alicia and friends agreed. 

"Wow..." Katie Bell said as Ron sashayed past, "I didn't know _K-Mart Couture_ had opened a new boutique in Hogsmeade!"

"Actually, I got these in Knutworld. Much cheaper, you know," Ron informed her, not cottoning on to the fact that she had just insulted him. 

"Gee... are you telling me that I went and spent £380 on these Roberto Cavalli sandals when I could have got some just like yours from there for only one knut?" asked Hermione, eyeing the plastic-y orange footwear he had teamed with a pair of thick argyle socks. 

"For the thrifty yet fashion-conscious male, there's no better place to shop," said Ron, proudly. 

"I think the shades add a touch of class," added Cho. Ron was sporting these essential accessories on his head. 

"Ah! Now, these were a particularly good bargain. Have you heard of _Crazy Meg's Knut Bin?_" 

'Crazy Meg' was an old witch and the proprietor of a small charity shop in the backstreets of Hogsmeade. It sold several dubious second-hand items. 

"Well, that's where I found these beauties. Only half a knut, and so stylish!" He was obviously choosing to ignore the fact that they said 'Gringotts Bank - for all your financial needs' on the side and had probably been free in the first place. 

Taking a deep breath, Ron decided it was time to approach his muse, his enchantress. Now... how to make a good impression? 

"Are you a parking ticket?" he asked, putting on his sexiest smile, "'Cause you've got 'fine' written all over you!" He raised his eyebrow suggestively. It was just as well that Alicia was not sipping her milkshake at that moment because it would have caused one of those embarrassing situations where you laugh so hard it comes out of your nose. Fortunately she managed to control herself. 

"Why thank-you, Ronald," she said dryly, looking up at him. "Are you Darren Day? Because you have 'I am a sleazy bastard who doesn't stand a chance with beautiful women but I still try my hardest to get them into bed with me using my sleazy bastard chat-up lines' written all over you."

Ron looked extremely crestfallen. Suddenly the new polyester 'Rugrats' T-shirt and baggy orange shorts seemed mightily inadequate. But... at least she said 'thankyou.' It was probably worth trying one last time...

"I may not be Fred Flintstone..." he said cautiously, ready to retreat at any sign of violent advance, "But I'm guaranteed to make your bed rock!"

There was no violent advance, just four girls who were reeling in silent disbelief. Even Lee, who was sitting next to Hermione, wouldn't have sunk to such a level. 

"Don't you get it? See, the Flintstones live in a place called 'bedrock' and I was making a flirty joke by implying that if you slept with me I would have incredible sexual prowess, and-"

Katie 'accidentally' brought her elbow back very sharply into Ron's groin.

"Whoops," she said, taking a small bow as she received a standing ovation from all those present. Ron staggered away whimpering. _Better luck next time, eh?_

*

"Okay people, let's see what you can do." Hermione's clear voice silenced the chatter in the gymnasium. There was an excellent turnout - it seemed even some of the girls who had scorned the idea of Cheerleading at first had changed their minds and decided to have a go. And... _my God! Half the Quidditch team are here! _This was working better than she could have hoped. Alicia, Angelina and Katie had all turned up, looking stunning in the purple tops and miniskirts that constituted Hogwarts' Sports Kit. They would have no problem getting onto the team, being slim, strong and athletic as well as pretty and popular. _Time to get started. _Hermione could not repress a smirk as she spied Hannah and Susan psyching themselves up in the corner where they stood alone. 

"Alright! I'm gonna call your names and then you come up here and dance, or sing, or cheer, or whatever. And then... I pick you or I send you away. I'm looking for a squad of 12. You got that?" There was a general reply in the affirmative. "Okay!" She smiled and settled back into her chair.

"First up... looks like it's _Abbot, Hannah_!" The enormous girl shuffled forward looking anxious. "Do you have any particular music prepared?"

"Yes," Hannah said, fishing out an old cassette tape, "here."

Hermione put the tape into the player and hushed silence fell over the crowd. This silence was broken when Hannah farted loudly.

"Well, that was revolting," Hermione remarked. "Please, control yourself."

"Sorry," said Hannah, her cheeks flushing crimson, "It happens when I'm nervous."

For the second time, the room fell quiet. Then the opening strains of 'Hit me Baby One More Time" blared out. At first it looked like Hannah was having a seizure. Then everyone realised she was trying to _dance._ After a full minute of sweaty hip gyrating and tuneless singing, Hermione decided enough was enough.

"Okay, I think we've seen all that's necessary from you," _and quite a bit more, _Hermione thought, eyeing the Hufflepuff's hairy legs and heaving bosom with evident disgust. "We'll get back to you."

Hannah looked ready to burst with pride as she walked back over to where Susan was cheering enthusiastically. "Did you hear that? They're going to _get back to me_!" 

Fortunately the next few efforts were far less stomach churning. There was the girl who looked very promising until she did the splits in the air minus her knickers (one for the squad if she agreed to rectify this small problem,) a slightly uncoordinated dance routine and then some wobbly gymnastics before it was _Bell, Katie_'s turn. 

With her short, fiery hair flicked out behind her ears and her uniform neat and flattering, Katie was a definite for the team from the start. Her Quidditch skills translated perfectly into Cheerleading and her movements were precise, agile and well-executed. There was a round of appreciative applause when she was finished. 

"That was great!" said Hermione, glad that her decision was obviously backed by all the others present. "You're on the team."

Katie grinned at Hermione and went back to join her friends, looking satisfied.

"Next we have... _Bones, Susan_." The tall and gangly Ravenclaw stepped forward. Her uniform looked to be several sizes too big, hanging limply from her non-existent hips and sagging where her bust should have been. Her legs were so thin that she looked like she would break if asked to perform any physical task too arduous. It was with some trepidation that Hermione even allowed her to audition. She felt it would be somehow kinder to tell the girl she hadn't got a chance in hell _before _she completely humiliated herself. But... _hey. Who cared? _With her rank, mousy hair pulled into two long plaits, her thick glasses, braces, bushy eyebrows and her terrible case of acne (Hermione's memory forced her to sympathise briefly with the last point) it was clear that this was going to be entertaining. It was. Susan made a vague effort to jerk her stiff limbs in time to the strange guitar music she had chosen. Every so often there were peculiar electronic noises and whenever they occurred she froze still for a moment in whatever position she was occupying. When she started playing her nostril-flute, Hermione intervened.

"THANKYOU, Susan. That was certainly very... interesting. NEXT!" Susan shuffled away.

There were a few more girls following Susan, the most notable performances being a 3rd year's 'modern interpretative dance' and some fearsome martial arts from a dangerous looking first year who couldn't speak a word of English. The latter was awarded a place on the squad, mainly because Hermione was too scared to send her away. 

At that moment, Cho waltzed in looking chic and stylish in her kit. It was a generally acknowledged fact that as head girl, she would be accepted onto the team without question. 

"Cho! Love the skirt. Come sit with me and Katie and help us pick people." Hermione called, patting the empty seat beside her. She joined them and began conversing quietly about who would make up the rest of the squad.

For the next hour, every girl in the gym tried their best to win one of the coveted places. Rather predictably the other two of the School's best female Quidditch players walked onto the team, folding themselves gracefully into their seats behind the judging desk. A surprise latecomer was Pansy, who appeared with Draco in tow. She marched up to the desk looking determined and very, very pretty. 

"Now, I'm not going to degrade myself by getting all hot and sweaty," she lisped. "I don't need to prove that I deserve a place on this team. I know I may not be the easiest person to get along with," she added, smiling magnanimously, "but I'm very, very pretty, and I'm light and thin and cute and rich and I'll buy you all uniforms, well, Draco will, and I know you won't regret it so I'll just sit down here next to you, Angelina, and we don't need to say anything else, do we? Draco, you may leave." Hermione looked at her in silence. Much as it went against all of her principles, she had to admit that everything the little blonde girl had said was true. She would make an excellent 'top', as being so light she would be easy to throw and catch. 

"Fine," conceded Hermione, "But first I want to make one thing clear. I am the captain of this team. It's on my approval that you have your place, and it'll be on my approval that you have it taken away if you give me so much as _one _reason why I should kick you out. Cheerleading takes discipline and hard work. If you don't put in the effort then you'll be out of here faster than you can say 'spirit stick'. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Pansy sounding very meek. Her blue eyes were wide and she looked the picture of innocence as she stared up at Hermione, who was almost a foot taller than her. Hermione felt her heart melt involuntarily. Then she remembered that she was getting all gooey over the same super-bitch who had ripped her Christian Dior bikini, openly criticised her Pantomime performance and wore steel-toed Gladrags boots. _But then... _she thought,_ she was still cute._

Perhaps the biggest surprise of the afternoon was the last member of the team. The squad was almost full after Padma, Lavender and Mandy arrived, and almost everyone had been and gone. However, one space behind the desk was left empty. Just when Hermione was starting to lose hope, the door banged open and a sodden Ginny walked in. Her flaming hair hung in damp spirals over her shoulders and her eyeliner had smudged from the rain. Just as Pansy had done, she marched up to the desk and stared at Hermione. 

"I want to be a Cheerleader," she said, simply. 

"Um, that's nice and all, but... we need to check out your skills first," said Hermione a little haughtily. She was more than a little taken aback by this admission. She _really _hadn't had Ginny down as the cheering type. But they were getting desperate. She secretly prayed that Ginny would show some exceptional talent so they could all just go. She was not disappointed. 

"You want to see skills?" said Ginny, pulling her hair up into a scruffy ponytail and removing her shoes. "I'll show you skills." She was clearly not in the mood to be messed with. Taking a deep breath, she raised her arms, straightened her feet and then pulled off the most immaculate double back handspring that anyone present had ever seen. "Now can I join the pom-pom club?" she asked.

Hermione, who was suddenly very happy, nodded mutely. This was Hogwarts' first Cheerleading Squad... _her _Cheerleading Squad... and they were going to be _good. _

*

Harry swerved sharply around the golden goalpost, screeching to a halt in mid-air and then shooting suddenly upwards. A glint of gold flashed past his left ear and he chased it determinedly. Fifty feet below, he could see Cho and the rest of the Hogwarts Team grinning at him. This firmed his resolve, and it was not long before the golden ball with silvery wings was clasped firmly in his hand.

"Way to go, Harry!" Angelina called as he touched down. "That was great. Now, we're all set for our first match?"

Six voices responded enthusiastically in the affirmative. Spring was the best time for Quidditch, the ground being hard and the breeze crisp, clean and not too strong. 

At the beginning of the year, Professor Dumbledore had made an exciting announcement about Quidditch. For the first time in 43 years, an inter-school Championship had been set up. Teams from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons would be arriving in a fortnight, and an air of great excitement was building amongst the students. 

A school team had been picked after extensive and competitive trials, and the players - Harry, Cho, Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia and Katie - were the cream of the Hogwarts crop, the strongest side the School had had in years. In addition to this, their training regime had made sure they were all in top condition. 

"Now, we'll be playing Durmstrang first, so I need you to start thinking tactics," Angelina instructed. As both the eldest and most experienced player on the team, she had been elected as captain and so far was flourishing in the role. "Remember, they may have got Krum, but I don't want you going out there ready to lose. We know we're the best team around - we've just got to act like it, play like it and prove it. I'll see you back here tonight for evening practise. That was a good session, well done all of you."

Shouldering their broomsticks, the team headed for the showers. 

*

Ginny clutched her broken umbrella and peered through the pouring rain and thick mist that was blowing violently across the Quidditch Pitch. At this distance it was almost impossible to see the players, let alone distinguish one from another. This was the fifth time this week she had come out to watch the School Squad practise, and her plan didn't seem to be working at all. There was no way he would notice her, not if he couldn't even see her. Besides, she was starting to get the feeling that being a tagalong wasn't the best approach. It didn't suit her and it didn't appeal to him. She was an individual - she had a unique and fiery temperament that wasn't accustomed to the role of drippy groupie. She began to descend the stairs and walked away from the empty stands. It was time for a change of tactics.

*

__

How can I impress her? Ron wondered. The fire in the common room was burning low, and seemed very sombre to the boy who was sitting in front of it disconsolately and alone. _How can I make her like me? _

Everyone knew that no guy stood a chance with Alicia, Dean had told him so. But she had plenty of male friends! He had often spotted her in the company of Blaise and Draco. Yes, they were tall and good-looking and clever and witty, but they were only the same age as he was. Even though she'd never shown any kind of romantic interest in them that he knew of, she never insulted them. She never laughed at them with her friends. What made him so different? Why did everyone seem to think it was so _hilarious_ that he liked her in that way? 

He'd tried to be mature and show her his sensitive side after the chat-ups didn't go as planned. The moonlit serenade that came as a result had been met with nothing but disgruntled complaints about disruption of beauty sleep and a bucket full of icy water cascading onto him from her balcony. He was at a loss. 

His thoughts were interrupted when the door to the girls' dormitory opened and two of Hogwarts' most attractive females emerged looking very secretive about something. Their arms were linked and they were whispering to one another. He pushed himself deeper into the high-backed chair he was occupying so as not to be spotted. Alicia and Hermione were both in dresses and heels, and were obviously sneaking out somewhere. It was Saturday night, and most of the 'in-crowd' from the sixth year and above could be found in Hogsmeade. The village had developed an active clubbing scene over the last few years and was enjoying the extra revenue pouring in from students keen to have a good time away from the eyes of the teachers. 

The girls slipped out quietly and the Fat Lady closed disapprovingly behind them. Ron was about to return to silent reverie when an idea struck him. _Her dorm was empty! He could sneak in and have a look around... find out what she liked, maybe discover a way to make a good impression! _He began to climb the stairs up to the dormitory as quietly as he could, still admiring his own genius.

*

Ron pushed open the door to Alicia's room. It creaked loudly and he flinched, praying nobody would wake up and discover him. Because she was an 8th year, she was allowed a room all to herself. They were only small dorms, but they were _private._ They were much envied by all of the younger students who still had to share with their classmates. 

She certainly seemed to have fitted a lot of stuff into a small room. Unknown to Ron, this was the result of a space shifting charm that Hermione had learnt especially for that purpose. The walls were covered with photos of her and her friends... holidays and shopping trips, skiing, diving, dancing, clubbing... she really was out of his league. 

In the centre of the room was a double bed with a tasteful quilt and lots of cushions. There was a large desk where she did her schoolwork and on top of this was a CD player and a wide and varied selection of music. This would be useful - he could drop some names into conversation next time he spoke to her. She also had a TV, video and... what was this? A mini-fridge! The small red object of desire was tucked down by the bed. A quick examination of its contents yielded strawberries and champagne as well as some ice cubes. _Nice! _Thought Ron, dreaming of the day when he would be invited to partake of them. _But... I hope she's not an alcoholic! _

Ron was very confused, especially when he looked under the bed and found the most prolific collection of Swedish pornography he had ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. She _did _have a boyfriend! She must be very liberal to allow him to keep his stash of 'Playboy' here... and put up posters of female celebrities on her walls. _Maybe one day she'd let him move in... _

He also rummaged in her drawers and wardrobe. These were mainly full of expensive designer clothing but there were some surprises... some _extremely _kinky underwear and a squidgy blue thing which he couldn't work out the purpose for. Maybe Dean would know. He'd ask him, later. 

*

"You looked in her fuckin' _room?_" Dean asked in disbelief. "Fuckin' hell, mate!"

"Why? What's wrong with that?"

"First, you don't just walk into a girl's fuckin' room like that! It's against the rules. If she finds out you've been in there..." Dean made a violent gesture that caused Ron to cover himself protectively.

"Second, do you have any idea how many people have tried that and failed? Come on, what'd ya find?"

"That's what I came to ask you about. See, there was this thing, right? A blue, squidgy thing, a few inches long…kind of looked like a-"

Dean hushed Ron, a look of ecstasy on his face. "Don't - speak - to - me," he said slowly, "I'm trying to keep this mental image."

"You don't need to," said Ron, "I brought it so you could look at it."

"You WHAT? You fuckin' retard!"

"I thought you'd be pleased."

"Don't let her see you with that. Oh, please fucking God, don't let her know you nicked her di- er, hi, Angelina!"

Ron quickly stuffed the offending object into his pocket and grinned widely at the black girl who was looking at the two boys very suspiciously. 

"Um, hi. I was just wondering if you'd seen Katie anywhere. No? Oh, well. Thanks, Dean."

She swept away and Ron sighed with relief. 

"So... what is it then? Tell me, please!"

Dean leaned down and whispered in Ron's ear. Slowly, a smile spread over Ron's face, and it didn't disappear for the rest of the day.

*

A few days later, Ron decided it was time to speak to Alicia again. He had to make sure he was _subtle _- she couldn't know that he'd been in her room, especially not after what Dean had told him she would do to him if she found out. 

He found her in the corridor on Wednesday morning and trotted along beside her, chattering enthusiastically. Every now and then she would throw a disparaging glance in his direction. 

"So I hear you like The Strokes. Cool, aren't they?" 

"Not if _you_ think so," she replied.

"What about Less Than Jake? The White Stripes?"

"Ron, do you really like those bands?"

"Er... yes!"

"Who is the lead singer of the White Stripes?"

"Um... Billy Bob Thornton?" Ron guessed wildly.

"Guess again," she said, shaking her head in disgust. 

"Er... er... oh, I know, wait a minute... it's... Salvador Dali!"

Alicia smiled slightly. Ron pressed on.

"So, you like Britney Spears a lot?"

"Oh, _yeah_," she said. "She's great."

"Which is your favourite song?"

"Song? Oh, I'm not really into the music."

"Right. I see," said Ron, which he didn't. He decided to change tack.

"What's your opinion of Swedish Porn?"

Alicia wheeled around and looked at him closely. Ron ran a finger under his collar which felt too tight all of a sudden. Then she answered.

"It's better than British Porn. Look, I can't believe I'm having this conversation so I'm just going to end it here before you get yourself into more trouble than you can handle, okay?"

"Okay," said Ron. She turned and began to walk away. _Well, that went as well as could have been expected! _He thought, cheerfully. _She doesn't suspect a thing. _But... hold on! He'd forgotten something. 

"Alicia, wait!" She turned back to see him waving something in the air in full view of all passers by. "I forgot to give you back your dildo!"

*

The Beauxbatons carriage touched down smoothly on the lawn in front of the castle, the huge stallions tossing their heads proudly and stamping on the frosty ground. On the lake, the Durmstrang ship was already floating gently, looking imposing with the tattered sails silhouetted against the pale sky. 

A procession of figures in blue streamed from the carriage and greeted the Hogwarts students who had come out to meet them. Dumbledore and Madam Maxime shook hands cordially and were soon engaged in conversation. In the distance, Hagrid could be seen puffing his way up the hill, his horribly hairy suit out in full force. 

The last figure to emerge from the blue vehicle was tall and slender, and with the sun glinting on her straight sheet of blonde hair she looked positively angelic. Fleur's ladylike, meandering stroll soon became a run when she saw Alicia waiting for her, smiling widely. They embraced tightly and, as is the French custom, kissed each other on each cheek. They had gotten to know each other very well the last time the foreigner had visited and Alicia had been happily anticipating her return over the last few days. In Quidditch they may have been arch rivals, but down on the ground they were very firm friends. 

Ron watched the two blonde girls as they set off across the lawn, sighing lustfully as their curtains of hair swung off into the distance. Now _both _of his favourite girls were here to taunt him. 

Harry was standing by his side, looking nervous but excited. The first match was tomorrow and Ron knew how much it meant to his friend that they win. The tension in the air had mounted to an almost tangible level and lessons for the rest of the day were suspended after it became obvious nobody could concentrate. 

That night in the common room, money was changing hands rapidly as Lee collected bets on the outcome of the tournament. As no matches had been played yet, there was no real way of telling which team would be the best.

"It's gotta be Durmstrang," said Ron, who was faithful to his idol to the last, "They've got Krum!"

"Like Charlie said once, they've got one good player. Hogwarts have _seven_," Harry chipped in. He wasn't speaking much, the nerves having got to him worse than everyone else. After all, he was the star seeker for the school - everyone was counting on him. A lot of people agreed with Harry that Hogwarts were the best, but the 'superstar' players like the Delacour Sisters and Krum were extremely popular too. As things stood, the number of bets on each school to win was fairly equal. Quite a few people were holding back their money until after the first match so they would have a better guess at the outcome. Lee's bag of cash was still quite light, but he had no doubt that soon it would be full and so would his pockets. 

*

The crowd assembled in the stadium on the morning of the match was the largest and most excited that Hogwarts had ever seen. Bigger and more enthusiastic than they had been even for the Triwizard Tournament, it seemed that the rows of students extending back into the distance were infinite. The air was filled with the sound of screaming, cheering and whistling, with banners and scarves being waved frenetically by most people. These mostly bore slogans such as 'Durmstrang es Prima!" "Hogwarts Kick!" and "Beauxbatons sont le mieux!" but there were some more colourful efforts, including "Durmstrang are a load of ugly mingers who should all be fuckin' shot on sight," from Dean.

Lee sat in the commentary box positively glowing with joy at being appointed Chief Master of Ceremonies for the duration of the tournament. This was what he did best, and he was thoroughly looking forward to it. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, teachers and servants, oh, and Ron too, welcome to the 56th International European Schools Quidditch Tournament!"

A tremendous cheer went up. Lee tried hard not to explode with happiness.

"And today for your viewing and sporting delight we have the first match of its kind played for 43 years - HOGWARTS VERSUS DURMSTRANG!"

Lee waited again for the noise to die down before continuing.

"Playing for Durmstrang, in order of Keeper, Beater, Beater, Chaser, Chaser, Chaser, Seeker, I give you-"

He looked closely at the small piece of paper on which he had scribbled down the foreign names. _Shit... I should've used a better pen, _he cursed as he realised that after being caught in the rain the writing had run in several places. _Oh well... nobody'll notice! _He dismissed this problem as a small inconvenience and did his best anyway.

"Fishfaceski! Blubberisevitch! Von Carthorse! Fattynov! El Skankio! Chestykoff! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand... Viktor Krum!"

The seven players shot out onto the pitch with tremendous speed, circling menacingly in their dark green robes. 

Their star player had 'grown into his looks' as Hermione put it, after he brushed arrogantly past her in the corridor, shoulder length black hair flouncing behind him. After the terrible nasal damage he'd suffered at the Quidditch World Cup, he'd obviously decided if he was going to have plastic surgery then he was going to have it properly. An entire facial re-sculpture had left him looking more like a tanned Spanish model than a disgruntled Bulgarian sportsman. As soon as he appeared onto the pitch, the sea of green-clad supporters in the crowd went wild. He had lost none of his precocious skill, swooping and diving as he showed off to his fans. 

Harry watched all this from where he stood in the tunnel at the Hogwarts end of the pitch. He was eagerly anticipating his first chance to play against the 'world's greatest seeker' (according to _Quidditch Monthly _no. 245) but was also feeling very intimidated. He knew that as Krum's rival he wouldn't be very popular on the pitch. 

As Lee started his banter again, Angelina pulled all the team together for one last word of encouragement.

"You know we're ready. You know how good we are. And you know just how sore their sorry asses are going to be once we've finished whipping them. So let's _go_!" Everyone mounted their brooms looking grim and determined. All of them had the light of challenge burning in their eyes. "Oh, and Harry?" the captain had time to call before they kicked off, "Krum might have been good once, but now he's nothing more than a pretty boy celebrity. You have something he doesn't. Show him what that is and we'll have no problem." She winked at him and then pushed off of the hard ground, zooming away in a flash of ebony hair. 

"And representing Hogwarts for the first time in international competition, I give you... _Chang!_ Cor, lookin' good as always, Cho..._Weasley! Weasley!_ Can't tell 'em apart, don't need to, both crackin' geezers..._Spinnet! Johnson! Bell!_ There goes a nice pair o' legs, pair o' legs, pair o' legs! Three lovelier ladies were never seen, except for Hermione of course..."

Down in the crowd, the beautiful brunette's smile got a little bit wider as she heard her friend's unprompted compliment. Pansy, sitting a few rows back, scowled horribly and threw some popcorn at her sometimes-arch enemy. 

"Last _and_ least, only joking my son, the team wouldn't be complete without 'im, our very own homegrown hero, Haaaaaaaary Pottaaaaaah! Alright, yer little git?" McGonagall looked disapproving but decided she was too caught up in the moment to care. 

In their new robes, which were flattering and resplendent in a deep and attractive purple, the 'magnificent seven' had never looked better. They swept onto the pitch in a carefully timed and precise arc to clamorous applause.

"And what's this?" Lee yelled into the microphone, "Madam Hooch is gettin' her balls out! Haha, calm down, Nev..." 

In no time at all the players were in position and the balls had been released. The snitch glimmered between Harry and Krum for a golden moment before it disappeared in a flutter of silver wings. The shrill whistle blew and the players shot into motion. 

For the first half-hour, play was fast, unrelenting and furious. Cho was flourishing in her newfound job as Keeper. After Harry stole the position she'd coveted, she decided that instead of giving up she'd try for another role instead. Being light and nimble meant she could move very fast and had proven herself worthy already by pulling off some miraculous saves. 

Fred and George were born to be beaters and they whacked the iron balls hard, fast and with deadly accuracy. Each time the Bulgarian chasers got hold of the red leather scoring ball, a well-placed Bludger would make them drop it and roll over in pain. 

The three chasers seemed to inhabit a world of their own. Their impenetrable triad of pure talent was a force to be reckoned with and there was no way their Bulgarian counterparts could compete. It could be said that they were the centre of the team, the key players... certainly without them they would have had a very hard time indeed. They seemed to be able to read each others thoughts as they soared in faultless formation above the roaring crowds. The Quaffle passed between them with such speed that it was impossible to tell who had possession. They scored goal after goal until the score stood at 120 - 30. Lee was running out of praiseworthy adjectives to describe the beauty of their gameplay... and their figures. 

Harry was flitting from one end of the pitch to the other as fast as his Firebolt would take him, always keeping his eyes tuned, focused and trained on the air below him for the slightest glimpse of the snitch or anything that resembled it. 

He had to keep reminding himself not to look at Krum. The words Angelina had spoken were whizzing around his head. _Was _Krum just a useless pretty boy?_ What had happened to him? _At first, Harry couldn't see any difference in the way his rival was playing. His flight was as natural and graceful as ever, his daring dives and swoops just as breathtaking. Or were they? After watching him for a while, Harry decided something was missing from his play. It was not very noticeable, certainly not to anyone on the ground. But Harry was an experienced player now, and he could clearly remember how Krum had looked two years ago through the pair of Omnioculars that he still owned. There had been a glint in his eye that plainly stated his ambition, his drive, his pure lust for winning at the sport that he loved and that had made him famous. Now that glint was gone, replaced by something else... a far off vanity that distanced him from the game by miles. It was as though he thought this trifling little match was beneath him. He played for his country now... what use was a school tournament, where your adversaries were mere children? 

Harry knew he'd found Krum's weakness and suddenly felt filled with a strength and courage like he'd never felt before. He may only be a child, but he was a child who could play a mean game of Quidditch. Harry had to think of a way to turn Krum's disaffected attitude against him. He had to pull something so daring, so arrogant, that Krum couldn't possibly expect it... and he knew just how to do it. 

Waving his hand in the air in the way they had agreed before the match, Harry signalled for Time Out. Angelina spotted him straight away and flagged the rest of the team down onto the ground.

"I was just about to do that myself," said the captain. "Chasers, talk to me." She formed a huddle with Katie and Alicia and began discussing tactics. Fred and George took the opportunity to rest their aching arms and have a quick sip of drink. Harry took his chances and slipped away into the crowd. 

"Hermione?" Harry tapped her on the shoulder. She turned round and listened while he explained his scheme and why he needed her assistance. Her eyes lit up and she followed him back to the changing rooms where there was no chance of them being seen.

Climbing back onto his broomstick, Harry kicked off and rocketed away. Now all he had to do was wait for the right moment, and pray everything went right.

"And after 96 minutes, the Hogwarts chasers are wiping the floor with their opponents," cried Lee, "they must be running out of moves to show us! Come on, Harry... we need a capture and we need it fast!" 

When Lee said this he had no idea just how fast the seeker in question would fulfil his hopes. 

Almost 100 feet above, Harry was circling, gripping his broom handle determinedly. The air was thin up here and the roar of the crowd nothing but a faint hum. His stomach was tying itself in knots. Nobody in his knowledge in the whole history of Quidditch had ever attempted what he was about to try, at least not from this extreme a height. 

Krum was tailing Harry bemusedly. _Vot vas ze Potter boy doing all ze vay up here? _He decided he should keep watching him closely. _Maybe he had seen ze sneetch. _Viktor didn't see what all the fuss was about with Harry. From what he'd seen today, the seeker was by far the weakest member of the team. He had been very impressed by the others, especially the chasers. He would have to talk to them later... give them some tips. But unbeknownst to Krum, Harry was about to prove just what it was about him that made him so special. 

Feigning intense concentration, Harry suddenly jerked his head towards the ground as though he had spotted something of the utmost importance, in this case the Snitch. Viktor picked up on this instantly and was by his side in seconds. 

__

Come on, you stupid Bulgarian bastard, Harry thought fiercely, _If you're going to follow me, then you're going to follow me all the way. _And turning his broom downwards he dipped into a sickeningly steep dive. 

It was as though somebody had pressed 'pause' on a VCR. Everyone stopped to watch, falling silent as the two tiny coloured specks in the sky plummeted towards the ground. 

Harry was almost blinded by the speed of the wind blowing into his face. His velocity was increasing steadily and for the first time since this idea had struck him he wondered if it would work without him being grievously injured in the process.

By the time Viktor realised that Harry had not, in fact, seen the snitch, and that he was about to become the victim of perhaps the most impressive Wronski Feint in history, it was far too late to pull out. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed something extraordinary happening. Harry was _climbing on top of his broomstick. _Still clinging to it with his hands, he was placing his feet along the shaft. At the speed they were travelling the air-resistance must have been immense but Harry held on grimly, knowing that if he let go his life would certainly end in a splattered mess. 

At twenty feet above the ground, Viktor pulled his broom up as hard as he could but the motion was not forceful or quick enough to save him. His broomstick took the brunt of the impact and snapped instantly. The next thing to break was Viktor's leg as his body hit the grass with horrifying force. He lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, but nobody was watching him. All eyes were on Harry, who at 10 feet above the ground was getting ready to make a leap of faith. Letting go of his broom handle, he jumped with as much force as he could muster, vertically into the air. He figured that it was only the same as jumping up and down in a plummeting lift so that maybe you wouldn't be on the floor when it landed, only this time you had a better chance of survival. 

He was right. His broomstick hit the ground and shattered just as Viktor's had done. Harry landed soon after it, but bent his legs and rolled to absorb the impact. While medi-wizards rushed onto the field to save Viktor, Harry stood up shakily and managed to execute a twirly bow before collapsing elatedly to the sound of the most tumultuous applause he had ever heard in his life. 

After that most spectacular of performances there really was no question as to who would win the match. Durmstrang had to replace Viktor with a small dark-haired boy who looked so terrified of Harry he hardly dared move for the rest of the match. This left the way open for the Hogwarts Seeker to make a swift and efficient capture only moments after he came back onto the pitch. 

*

That night while the celebrations were getting underway, Angelina finally asked the question Harry knew would be coming at some point. 

"Er... I hate to bring this up when you're still enjoying your euphoria and all, but... how the hell are you going to play Beauxbatons without your Firebolt? I mean, you were okay for the last few seconds of today's match but you didn't have any competition. You can't go a whole match against Gabrielle Delacour on a shitty school broom. Not that I don't think it was worth it for a front page in _Quidditch Monthly_." She beamed.

"Ah. Well actually I thought of that in advance," Harry told her, enjoying the effect this statement had.

"You did? You really are amazing me today."

"Thankyou. Anyway, I knew that Viktor would never fall for the feint if he knew I'd changed brooms, so during time-out I went to Hermione and asked if she could help me. Of course she could, she's the best magician in the school. All it took was a simple bit of transfiguration and one of the worst brooms in the school looked like a Firebolt. Because it's so slow and ricketty, it wasn't going as fast as Viktor's during the dive, which was a real help. Worked like a charm, if you'll excuse the pun. The real broom is safely tucked away in my dorm."

Harry grinned with the smug satisfaction only known to those whose plans have all gone perfectly. "Simple, really."

*

The second Quidditch match was drawn as Beauxbatons vs. Durmstrang. Once again the stadium was packed with students, all bedecked in their team colours. Many Hogwarts students were keen to size up the opposition for the final – nobody had seen Beauxbatons play before and their new seeker, Gabrielle Delacour, was gaining a reputation in international Quidditch circles as 'one to watch.' 

After Durmstrang's loss to Hogwarts and the untimely retirement of their star player owing to grievous bodily harm, the Bulgarian team were severely demoralised. Their heads were hung low as they came onto the pitch and their lineup sounded rather unimpressive without the name "Viiiiiiktaaah Kruuuuum!" announced triumphantly at the end. 

Beauxbatons looked to be in far better shape. They zoomed onto the pitch with confidence and panache, their powder blue robes streaming behind them as the Spring breeze made the flags around the pitch flutter jauntily. Gabrielle Delacour was 15 years old, light, nimble and just as pretty as her older sister. Fleur was also on the team, as one of the chasers. Though they were both fairly tall, they moved with grace and agility which marked them out from all the other players. Harry, in the stands, watched Gabrielle with interest and admiration. _She was very beautiful… and a really good Seeker, too. _He felt a strong jolt of excitement as he realised he would be playing opposite her in a few days time. 

Unfortunately for those expecting an exciting match, play was over before it had really begun. Gabrielle made a stunning capture in only seven minutes, which still left the Beauxbatons chasers enough time to score eighty points against the Durmstrang keeper, an ugly lummox who seemed too upset to even attempt stopping the goals. 

Despite the superb performance by the Beauxbatons team, nobody felt they were a match for Hogwarts. Angelina, Alicia and Katie had been elevated to celebrity status and couldn't go anywhere without eager first and second years clamouring for their attention. Harry, too, was enjoying the appreciative whistles and cheers which followed him everywhere. 

Lee was almost overwhelmed by the volume of bets he was receiving. _10 galleons on Hogwarts to win… 15 galleons on Hogwarts to win… 400 galleons on Hogwarts to win _(Draco evidently felt optimistic)… The only people willing to back Beauxbatons were Gabrielle Delacour and, inexplicably, Professor Trelawney. 

*

The money bag that Lee was holding was extremely heavy, and getting moreso by the minute. Everyone was sure the home team would win just as easily over Beauxbatons as they had over Durmstrang. The students were very loyal to their school at most times anyway, but throw patriotism and Quidditch into the equation and they became almost rabidly enthusiastic. 

The young entrepreneur turned to Blaise, who was doing some rapid and scribbly calculations on a spare bit of paper and looking slightly worried. 

"Uh… Lee?"

"Yes, my lad. What seems to be the problem?"

"Y'know… with Hogwarts being the obvious favourite to win, far more people are betting on them than on Beauxbatons. It's completely uneven."

"So?"

"_So, _my dreadlocked companion, if Hogwarts _do _win then at the odds you're offering, we're going to owe a lot of people a lot of money. We can't possibly afford it."

"Ah," said Lee quietly, "but what if they _don't _win?"

"Look, I'm sorry to disappoint you but it's just not going to happen. Our team's too good… Beauxbatons don't stand a chance. We'd better close down for tonight before you get us into a deeper mess than we're already in." 

"Listen, son. I've got it covered, okay? Don't worry yer little self about it."

"Please would you stop with the paternal act? I'm only two years your junior, y'know."

"Sorry, my boy. Oops, I mean… my Blaise. I mean…Blaise."

Blaise lowered his reading glasses and looked at Lee, hard.

"As your financial advisor, I really think I ought to be let in on the whole of your little 'scheme'. If it goes wrong, (and I urge you to remember the 'Spring Mistletoe – because every season is kissing season' sale last week which was a complete disaster,) I am going to be in the shit as much as you are. Now spill."

"I'm sorry, but that is a private matter."

"Tell me or I'll put all of your profits towards Hannah Abbot's 'Curvy Girlz Cheerleading Campaign'." 

"Okay, okay," said Lee, looking alarmed. "Go and ask Hermione. She'll tell you all about it."

*

Blaise looked over to where Hermione was sitting. The common room phone was tucked under her ear and she was flipping through a magazine while sketching something onto a notepad. He caught a few sentences of her conversation.

"Look, Mom. Would you just – No, of course not. I told you last time, I – Yes, of _course _I am still a virgin... Drugs? _Now _who's being immature?… No, I will _not_ drop my 'insolent attitude.' Gosh, is that the kettle boiling? I have to go now… Oh, hi Blaise."

The multi-tasking girl indicated silently that she needed a few more minutes and so he took a seat next to her. Hermione resumed attempting to converse with her mother. 

"No, he's not my boyfriend…. No, I have _not _slept with him…. _BONDAGE?! _Just calm down… I promise I – would you please listen to me?"

Blaise was clearly tired of waiting. He pulled the phone away from her grasp.

"Hi, Mrs. Granger. My name's Blaise Zabini… I don't think we've met. I'm a multi gallionaire and, uh… I'm fucking your daughter. Please leave her alone so I can tie her to my bedposts and force her to smoke cannabis while favouring me sexually. Okay, bye now. It was nice speaking to you too." He replaced the receiver in the cradle and turned to face Hermione. 

"Now do I have your attention?"

"Well, that's _my _allowance gone for the next six months." She was slightly open-mouthed. "My mom will probably disown me now. I'm disowned!"

"Oh, there there," he mocked. "She sounds like a bitch to me."

"That is so not… okay, so it is true. You're just not meant to say that stuff about other people's moms."

"What do you mean? Hey, Lee!" Blaise yelled, "Your mum's a dyke and your dad's a fag!"

"Thankyou, my friend," Lee hollered back. "I hope your family all die in a freak yachting accident!"

Blaise grinned. "See?"

Hermione just shook her head and laughed. There was a moment's silence.

"You are _not _fucking me."

"Maybe not right now…"

"Would you like to?"

Realising what she'd said, she covered her mouth in surprise and blushed. She was acting like some immature little girl-scout, just because he was reasonably… okay, _extremely_… attractive. 

Though they had fallen into the habit of flirting outrageously every time they saw each other, they'd never been _that _forward before. She made a valiant attempt to recover her dignity and act like it was nothing. 

"You know… thinking about it, I guess I owe you a 'thank you.' You just got my mom off of my back for at least a year, and that's gotta be worth something."

"What kind of 'something' did you have in mind?" He asked mischievously as his ice blue eyes struggled to maintain a look of innocence. Hermione looked at him closely, unable to hide her delight, very aware of the strong hand that was resting on her thigh. 

"Well, Cannabis has never agreed with me, but…" She tailed off, and was forced to leave her suggestion there as Blaise leaned over and kissed her forcefully. 

*

It was time. He had to let her know how he felt. _He was in love with her!_ _She was his goddess, his angel, his princess! _Floating on what felt like a fragrant bubble of happiness, Ron made his way towards the room where he knew his blonde temptress resided. She was probably sprawled on the coverlet, eyes closed, virginal and pure, waiting for her Prince Charming to carry her away. It was every girl's fantasy – surely it must be hers? He felt confident in her desire for him. 

But what if she wanted to make passionate love to him? He was _pretty _sure he knew what to do. "_The man inserts his erect penis into the female's vagina…" _He had memorised this passage from _Explaining Sex to Your 5-Year-Old_, a book he'd found at home during the holidays. 

He stood outside Alicia's dorm. It was half past ten at night, a time by which he was sure any visiting friends should have left. However, he'd clearly been wrong about that. There was the distinct sound of _two _voices from behind the pink paintwork of her door. One was Alicia's. The other's sounded… muffled. And foreign. 

"Oh… please… please…" Alicia moaned. _Was she in trouble? Did she need rescuing from her mysterious continental assailant? _

"Give it to me! Now… yes…yes…"

__

Give her what? What did she need so desperately? He was unsure as to whether to go in. He didn't want to make himself look a fool. 

A loud, passionate and very feminine cry of absolute ecstasy issued forth from the chamber beyond. Unfortunately, Ron mistook this for a cry of pain. He burst through the door with an almighty crash, wielding the only weapon which had come to hand – a stuffed beaver which had been resting on a pillar in the corridor. 

__

SHIT.

At least he had been right about something. Alicia _was _sprawled on her coverlet and her eyes _were _closed… but she could not have been further from virginal or pure. Her long, blonde hair was tousled but glossy as it fell in cascades over her satin pillows. She was wearing the kinkiest (and only) French underwear Ron had ever laid eyes on and still sighing with pleasure as _another blonde girl _who he instantly recognised as Fleur Delacour finished doing something very, very naughty underneath Alicia's camisole. It was the French girl who noticed him first.

"Alicia?" said Fleur, looking worried. 

"Fucking hell, that was fantastic…"

"Alicia! Oo is zat deesgusting boy?"

"Oh baby, that was… RONALD WEASLEY, WHAT THE _FUCK_ DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING IN HERE?!"

Ron was still reeling somewhere between disappointment and disbelief. His fragrant bubble of happiness had just been burst unceremoniously. 

"Fleur…Alicia…Fleur…._Alicia! _You're _lezzies!_"

"OF COURSE I'M A FUCKING LESBIAN, YOU INCOMPETENT FUCKING FUCKRAG!"

Alica was yelling so loudly that the attention of the whole corridor had been attracted. Doors began to open and quite a crowd was accumulating outside. 

Alicia was not done yet. Any hope Ron may have been cherishing about retreating unscathed were dispelled when she threw a glass half full of champagne at his head. It smashed right on target. 

"Ow!" yelped Ron. "Are you on your period?"

"FUCK YOU!"

"You do seem to be retaining a bit of water. Are you always that fat? I mean… big? Curvaceous?" Alicia was a size 6 and prided herself on her sylphlike figure. 

"A TALL, BLONDE FRENCH SUPERMODEL HAS JUST BEEN LICKING MY PUSSY! DOES THAT SAY 'MENSTRUAL' TO YOU?!"

"I can recommend some herbal tea and a warm bath…"

"THE ONLY THING I WANT RIGHT NOW IS YOUR UGLY HEAD ON A TEN FOOT FUCKING SPIKE!" Alicia screamed, her complexion flushed but still looking arrestingly beautiful. "GET OUT!"

"Remember to change your pantyliner every three to five hours!" He called helpfully as he started to leave. Alicia's rage was now beyond screaming point. Her only retaliation to this was to rip the entire mini-fridge from the wall and throw it at the offending young man with disturbing force. 

"I think you've broken my leg!" Ron whimpered, as he crawled away down the corridor. 

*

"I mean, _really. _A person does something purely by accident, that could have happened to _any _self respecting fellow just minding his own business, and just because by some extraordinary chance that accident happens to be interrupting a beautiful girl's lesbian love frolicks, a chap gets a mini-fridge thrown at his leg!" said an exasperated Ron who was soapboxing in the great hall from the standpoint of his wheelchair. 

"I was a victim – you could be too. So join my campaign today – Stop the Stressy Menstruating Lesbians who Throw Mini Fridges! STSMLWTMF for short!" 

It was perhaps foolish of Ron to expect to get away with this without incurring some sort of recrimination. It began with small and petty (though none the less painful) acts of loyalty to Alicia, such as Dean pushing Ron's wheelchair out of the window into the lake at midnight while he still happened to be occupying it.

There was a distinct lack of support for Ron's campaign. In fact, the only people who even seemed to notice were a first year (who didn't speak English and felt sorry for the 'poor crippled boy,') and the Lesbian and Gay support alliance, who sent him strongly worded hate mail by owl on a daily basis urging him to 'stop the ignorance' and to 'promote free love in a culture fuelled by hatred.' 

Somebody (Ginny) obviously thought it would be very amusing to put used pantyliners in Ron's bag whenever he wasn't looking, though Alicia insisted truthfully that this had nothing to do with her. She hadn't realised quite how much power she wielded as a super-popular cheerleader with model looks. It seemed that if she took exception to a person, the whole school was quite prepared to follow suit – and they did. 

Alicia's rival organisation, **C**ampaign for **L**ocks **I**n dorms **T**o **O**mit **R**on **I**nterrupting **S**ex, was a runaway success, gaining 1142 Hogwarts members in under half an hour. At first she was pleased that so many people wholeheartedly supported her cause, but as Hermione pointed out a few days later, the main motivation was probably childish amusement at wearing badges printed with her acronym. 

*

"So what exactly are you and Lee up to?" asked Blaise. Hermione, who was lying in his lap in the common room, made sure nobody was listening before she answered. 

"You were right when you said that Beauxbatons don't stand a chance at the moment – our team _are _too good. So we were thinking – what's the only way we can give them a shot at winning?"

"Sell the chasers to a Mongolian slave trader? Just joking," he added as Hermione looked at him sharply. "Besides, I don't have the addresses of any slave traders, Mongolian or otherwise."

"We have to _change the team_," Hermione told him. "Think about it. There are over 1000 students who have staked all they've got on Hogwarts to win. The only way Lee can get out of this without losing his entire business and personal fortune in the process is to make sure it's _Beauxbatons_ who take the trophy. They're complete outsiders – he'll rake in the profits from everyone's losses and hardly have to pay out anything."

"Very clever in theory," said Blaise sceptically, "but how the hell are you going to get the best team we've had for... ever, to give up?"

"I have my ways," Hermione said mysteriously. 

"You're not thinking bribery, are you? 'Cause… I am _not _getting involved in that."

"Nope. My way will mean that they leave of their own accord. Let's just say… it'll be in their best interests not to play on Saturday."

"Blackmail? Corruption?"

"Only on a minor scale."

"You know something? You are a very, very clever young lady."

*

"So, uh… Harry? Can I speak to you for a moment?" Hermione didn't give him the chance to refuse before she grabbed his arm and pulled him into an empty classroom. 

"I have a proposition for you."

"Oh? What is it?"

"I want you to drop out of the Quidditch team."

"WHAT? Why?!"

"That's for me to know and… you _not _to know."

"Why should I? Let me tell you now, nothing you could possibly say or do could induce me to drop out. There, has that saved you the trouble?"

Hermione didn't like his tone one little bit. It smacked of insolence. 

"You had better quit," she said, her voice quiet and dangerous, "or I'll tell Cho about your little… _indiscretion_ with our dear Virginia at Draco's party. Does that convince you?"

Harry's face went a deathly shade of white. 

"How – how do you know about that?"

"Oh, I've seen things you wouldn't believe," she said briskly. "Now, are you going to do this the easy way or the horribly embarrassing, hurtful and unpleasant way?"

"Er…"

"I'm waiting."

"Um…"

"CHO!" Hermione yelled. "CHO, YOU'LL NEVER GUESS-"

"Okay, okay!" Harry said quickly. "I'll drop out. I promise. Just, please… please don't…"

"There's no need to cry," she mocked, seeing his horrified and upset countenance. "All you gotta do is drop out of the team. Oh, and… read this list and memorise it. Okay?" 

Harry took the small piece of paper she handed him and read it. 

"Is there any point at all in me doing this stuff?" he asked, dazedly.

"Nope. That bit's just for my own personal, twisted amusement. 

"I don't even know if I can trust you!" he said, exasperatedly. 

"If you keep your part of the bargain, I'll keep mine," said Hermione evenly.

Harry nodded, gave her a last scared look and ran away. 

*

"Well, that's one down. Six to go…" Hermione looked pleased. She was enjoying this an almost unhealthy amount. 

"I congratulate you. One thing, though… how do you know Ginny won't have an attack of the conscience and tell Cho herself?"

"Um, Blaise… do you really think any self respecting girl could live with that kind of shame? Nobody likes admitting they got smashed and slept with a loser, especially not if it's _Harry._"

"If Harry is such a loser, why does Cho go out with him? She's popular… she could have her choice of guys."

"Cho is a little… inexperienced," said Hermione confidentially. "She lost one of the best boyfriends a girl could ask for. It can't have been great for her judgement. I guess Harry is a kind of safe option… she knows she won't get hurt that way."

They looked over at Harry who was sitting very uncomfortably next to Cho on one of the sofas by the fire. They seemed to be having a very forced, un-enjoyable conversation. In fact, as soon as Harry saw Hermione and Blaise looking at them, he panicked and tried to make a swift exit. 

"Oh, Haa-rrry!" she called. He trotted over obediently, looking frightened. 

"Have you memorised my list?"

"Y-yes."

"Good."

"D-do I still have to-?"

"Of course," she said, matter of factly. 

"Okay. Can I go now?"

"Sure."

He almost tripped over himself in his haste to get away from her. . 

"Pussy," said Hermione, eyeing the retreating ex-Quidditch star in disgust. 

*

"So how did you get Fred and George to quit the team? I never thought you'd manage it," said Blaise admiringly through a mouthful of fries. "They're, like, the biggest Quidditch fanatics in the school!"

"I know," said Hermione, who was watching her companion as he devoured his 'mid-morning snack' with alarming speed. "To be honest, I wasn't sure my original plan would work. I _was _just going to threaten to tell Mrs. Weasley the _real _reason that last supply teacher left… but I decided I'd better throw in something extra as a bonus."

"Oh yeah? What was that?"

"The password to the girls' toilets with the little hole that lets you see right into Alicia's dorm. I mean, everyone _loves_ a lesbian peepshow. Uh… except me, of course. Ha… ahaha."

"Don't worry, I believe you," reassured Blaise, who didn't in the slightest. 

*

Hermione thought hard. As much as she prided herself on having _all _of the dirt on practically every student in the school, she was stuck. Alicia, Angelina, Katie and Cho were all pretty clean. Everyone _knew _Ally was a lesbian, Katie and Cho were too unadventurous to ever have done something seriously naughty, and Angelina was just… too scary to blackmail. 

Hermione didn't like to admit it but she was getting herself in over her head. She had promised to try and make the whole of the Hogwarts team quit before she'd even known if it was possible. What if she couldn't do it? Lee's business would be ruined… all their hard work would have been wasted. 

She looked down at the piles of paper in front of her and sighed. Head Girl applications, timetables, schoolwork, catalogues, flipcharts, graphs, marketing schemes, pages of figures and finances… she was busy. Very, very busy. What started as an uneventful term had become one of the most challenging ones of her whole school career. She had a tremendous responsibility to Lee, to Parvati… Cho had spent so much time helping with her Head Girl campaign that she couldn't give that up, either. 

__

Oh, well.. she had to start somewhere. It was time to get organised. She started to put her scattered letters and documents into piles, paperclipping them together, filing everything away into its proper place. She was almost done when a small, glossy booklet that had been buried under a heap of faxes caught her eye. 

__

British Cheerleading Association Catalogue Spring Season 2002, said the cover in bold lettering. Somewhere in the back of her mind a small cog started to whirr. The booklet was full of uniforms, pom-poms, sneakers… even customisable socks. She had been dying to pick out a proper outfit for her beloved cheerleading team but had put it on the back burner over recent weeks because of an immense workload in other areas. 

The team had been started mainly to fulfil the first target of Cho's manifesto: _to show your awareness of the importance and benefits of an extra-curricular activity. _Exercise of the sport kind had never really appealed to Hermione, but she felt she had come up with an enjoyable way to get around it. Cheerleading was athletic, glamorous and fun. It kept you fit and it allowed you to socialise. Besides, she had known it would attract lots of members. Even McGonagall had been very impressed by her 'initiative and commitment.' All in all, it had been successful. But what if it could be used to her advantage in an even bigger way…? 

The team was good – really good – so good that she had already considered going professional. They practised for two hours a time twice weekly and had mastered some very impressive routines. But up until now it had just been for fun, another thing to put on her list of activities. 

Maybe… maybe now was the time to take the next step. Her many plans were rapidly falling into place. Would it work? She hoped so…

Opening the booklet, she began to read, already scribbling down notes at a furious pace. 

*

Ron decided it was time to end the feud with Alicia. He had given up his STSMLWTMF campaign and he was sick of getting howlers screaming 'STOP THE SPREAD OF MISINFORMATION AND IGNORANCE – JOIN THE LESBIAN AND GAY SUPPORT ALLIANCE' while he was trying to eat his toast every morning. He didn't have much trouble finding her – all you had to do was look for a huge gaggle of excited first years and you could bet she'd be at the centre of them. 

"Out of my way, you gaylords!" said Ron, attempting to push the rabid 11 year olds away and clear a path to reach the object of his affections. The 'Alicia Fan Club' didn't take very kindly to their idol's arch nemesis, and responded by kicking him violently while loudly mocking his poor insult. 

"Ow! Ow! Alicia, make them stop!"

"Quit it, will you? He's obviously got something pitiful to say." The errant rabble fell into submissive silence and scurried away as she waved her hand dismissively. 

"I didn't come here for an apology, Alicia…"

"Which is good, because I certainly didn't come here to give you one."

"I think," he said, assuming a wounded air, "that we should end our little love affair here."

"Ron… we haven't _had _a love affair-"

"I don't want to hear it!" Cut in the gangly ginger boy. "We could have had something really special… you can't deny the chemistry between us."

"Ronald, I'm a _lesbian. _Even if you were Brad Pitt, I wouldn't be interested."

"How can you dismiss heterosexuals as uninteresting when you've never even had one?" Ron asked questioningly. 

Alicia looked as though she was debating whether to tell him something. 

"I _have,_" she said, flatly. 

"When?" cried Ron, sounding horrified. "Who is the scoundrel who wrenched your delicate flower away at the tender age of _10_?"

"I was 15, and more than a bit drunk, and anyone will tell you that Draco in the 3rd year _did _look very effeminate."

The boy in question happened to be passing at that moment, and seemed to object to Alicia's description.

"Hey! What's with spilling your dark secrets to _Weasley_?!" The blond boy exclaimed. Alicia flashed him a smile.

"Don't worry yourself, Malfoy, your masculinity remains intact. Besides, I was _loving _it until I realised the… _thing… _was real." Draco grinned in the knowledge that he was a _very _lucky boy and blew her a kiss before sauntering away.

Alicia turned back to Ron, who had more to get off of his chest. 

"I'm glad you brought up the little matter of your sexuality," he said, patronisingly. "I know you must feel very lonely and confused sometimes. Many teenagers experience a period of 'latent sexuality' when they feel that they want to experiment with members of the same sex, and I sympathise, I really do. I have had my own fair share of difficult experiences in that area. But it hurt me that you didn't choose to confide in me! Quite frankly I think that your inability to share your feelings with someone so close to you shows a lot of immaturity on your part." He sniffed in a dignified and hurt manner. 

Alicia stared. 

"Firstly, Ronald, I have been out since I was _eleven_. I can promise you that in the eight years since, I haven't had any feelings of loneliness or confusion. See, unlike you, I _have _friends, and I don't have trouble with simple things like tying my own shoelaces. Secondly, I suggest that you see a counsellor about your 'difficult experiences' and sort out your own homosexual tendencies before you try and sort out mine. And thirdly," she said, looking at him like he was a piece of dirt on the floor, "I would wait until your voice has finished breaking before the next time you tell me I'm immature." 

To Ron's immense shame, he felt a tear trickle down his freckly cheek. "Then I guess…" he sobbed, "It's really over this time, isn't it?" 

She nodded. 

He began to walk away, shoulders hunched, eyes to the floor. Alicia, who was still watching him, felt a tiny pang of guilt. _Had she been perhaps the tiniest bit cruel? _

Before he reached the end of the corridor, he turned back one last time. 

"I don't expect you to return _all _of the condoms…" Then he left. 

Alicia smiled. 

*

"I have called this emergency meeting of the Hogwarts School Cheerleading Team to make a very important proposition," said Hermione, trying to keep her voice level and calm although inside she was quailing with fear. She knew everything was hanging in the balance.

"There are a number of reasons why in a moment I am going to ask you all to perform a small favour for me."

A ripple of curious chatter ran through the 11 girls who were assembled in front of Hermione in the gymnasium. It was the night before the match - what could possibly be so important?

"I'm sure it has not escaped your attention that Parvati Patil has recently left this school on grounds of maternity. Nobody, not even someone as capable and intelligent as me, could possibly keep up their schoolwork _and _look after a child. She may have been careless and she may have been stupid to think pregnancy wouldn't happen to her, but it _did. _And it could happen to any one of us, no matter how careful we are."

Only Alicia looked sceptical. 

"So hers is a plight we all have a duty to sympathise with," said Hermione authoritatively, employing her most sincere tone of voice. "We can help her. We can do the small amount it is in our power to do and change somebody's life for the better."

"That's all very nice," said Angelina icily, "but what do we have to _do_?"

__

It was crunch time. Taking a deep breath, Hermione said it.

"I want you to cheer for the school tomorrow."

There was instant uproar, not least from the three chasers and Cho, who couldn't have looked more horrified if she'd asked them to donate their limbs. The Cheerleaders who _weren't _also on the Quidditch team looked excited and pleased, but were making just as much noise. 

"Please," Hermione called, "listen to me!"

"Why should we?" said Angelina angrily. "You feed us some sob story about a stupid _slut_ who should have kept her legs crossed, and then expect us to give up the chance of a lifetime to give her a pitiful bit of help she doesn't even deserve?! What kind of proposition is that?"

Hermione was gobsmacked. She hadn't expected this to be easy, but she hadn't planned on provoking such animosity from a very pissed off Angelina. 

"I - I've worked _hard _for this team," Hermione pleaded. 

"And you can _bet_ I've worked harder for mine," said Angelina fiercely. "Do you think I'm going to let them down like that?"

"It seems a shame to disappoint you," spat Hermione, unable to keep the bitchiness out of her voice, "but I think you'll find they've already jumped ship."

Angelina fell silent while this sank in, her face suddenly looking shocked and hurt rather than angry.

"Oh, I _am _sorry," Hermione said smoothly. "Did I spoil your little 'team spirit' moment?"

"I - I don't believe it," Angelina stuttered. "You're lying... you must be. Fred, George, _Harry..._ they wouldn't just quit like that!" 

"Go ask them," said Hermione confidently. "You're defending a team that doesn't even _exist_."

Angelina still looked angry and disbelieving.

"Ally?" Hermione turned her imploring brown eyes onto her blonde friend. "Will _you _help me?"

Did Alicia look... tempted?

"I'm sorry, Hermi, I just-" She hesitated. 

"Isn't there _anything _I can do to make it worth your while?" coaxed Hermione, widening her eyes even further and ladling on the innuendo. 

"Oh... I - but..."

Hermione nonchalantly bent down to wipe some non-existent lint from her Louis Vuitton sneakers. Incidentally, this allowed Alicia the exciting view right down her low-cut top. 

"I'm in," sighed Alicia.

"And what about those of us who _don't _think with our pussies?" said Angelina disgustedly.

"Don't listen to that frigid _bitch_," muttered Alicia to Hermione. 

"What's the matter," Angelina retaliated, "did they raise the V.A.T. on strap-ons again?"

There was a collective, suspenseful 'ooooooooh' from all those present.

Alicia looked Angelina squarely in the eye. 

"You've never forgiven me for turning you down that night, have you?" She said triumphantly, knowing she held a trump card. 

Angelina shrieked in shock and tried to smack Alicia around the face. 

Fortunately Blaise, who had entered quietly during the tumult, intervened and pulled her away before any damage could be done. 

"Ladies, please. Hear your beautiful spokeswoman out."

Hermione smiled at him thankfully as she waited for silence to be resumed. 

"As I was _trying _to explain before our closet _muff-diver _here tried to interrupt," (with this, she cast a disparaging look at Angelina who was still struggling to escape Blaise's vice-like grip) "If you cheer with me tomorrow, you can really help to make a difference. You all know how many people have bet on the Hogwarts team to win. If the reserve squad have to play in their place..." (she couldn't help snickering at the very notion - Hannah Abbot played for them,) "Beauxbatons will easily win. Lee will rake in the cash from his betting racket, and he'll give enough of the profits to Parvati to make sure she never has to worry about money for her baby again. She can pay a childminder to look after Ranjit and come back to school. Don't you want to help her?"

"Not that much," said Cho, who could be merciless at times as Hermione well knew. "I'd rather play Quidditch."

Katie nodded in agreement with the keeper even though Padma looked ready to explode with rage. 

"I'll use my cut of the money to buy you all a new cheerleading uniform!" added Hermione. 

They remained unconvinced.

"With matching socks?"

Still no response.

"_Personalised _matching socks?"

Cho just raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh, _fine,_" said Hermione exasperatedly. "I hoped I wouldn't have to resort to this, but... whoever says 'yes' next gets to sleep with Blaise."

"WHAT?" he said in surprise, but Katie and Cho were already arguing about who had offered their consent first.

"No need to argue, ladies... there's enough of me to go around," Blaise beamed. 

"That's enough of the sleaze from you, you lucky fuck," said Hermione affectionately. 

Only Angelina remained unmoved. Hermione took a moment to reflect on how she would feel if _her_ plan had all gone horribly wrong and all of _her _work had been ruined in a few minutes. She wouldn't have felt too good either. 

"Look... I know you don't want to hear this right now, but I am sorry," said Hermione, regretting her bitchiness earlier. 

"Yeah, I bet you are. _Heartbroken,_" Angelina muttered bitterly. 

"I know what it's like to work as hard as you have for something. I - I'm really, really sorry it has to be this way, but..."

"Look, save your pity for somebody who needs it," said Angelina defiantly. "You can't stop me from playing tomorrow."

"I know I can't... but maybe I can still _persuade_ you not to."

Angelina could not possibly have looked more incredulous. 

"Listen. If you cheer for us tomorrow..." Hermione paused and grimaced, "I'll kiss Ron full on the lips for one whole minute."

Angelina couldn't help giggling. "You'd do that?"

"With tongues," Hermione promised recklessly.

Angelina couldn't deny that the thought of the most popular girl in the whole school kissing perhaps the ugliest boy in the whole school for one delicious minute was very, very appealing. And if the whole _team _had already quit... what purpose would playing the match tomorrow serve? She'd only make a fool of herself. Which would be _nothing _compared to what Hermione was going to do if she kept her side of the bargain. 

"I'll do it," said Angelina eventually. 

Hermione squealed in delight and hugged Angelina hard. 

"I promise you Angel, you will _not _regret this!"

* 

It was the night before the final match of the International Schools Quidditch Championship. Everyone was feeling tense, nervous and very excited. Hermione, Blaise and Lee had done all they could to ensure a Beauxbatons victory. Now there was nothing left to do but watch and wait, praying for the best. Well… _almost _nothing. 

Hermione still had one smug, self-confident card up her sleeve, and it was one which was going to cost her dearly to play. Of course she didn't know it at the time, which is why at ten minutes to seven on Friday evening she looked meaningfully at Harry and coughed once, audibly. 

Harry gulped and looked pleadingly at Hermione. She just smiled almost imperceptibly and raised an eyebrow. Tentatively, he leaned over and put his hand on Dean's knee.

"Watch it, Potter. Don't fuckin' come on to me, mate!" 

Harry blushed. Everyone laughed. 

Hermione coughed again. 

Again, Harry's hand sneaked its way onto Dean's leg. 

"Fuck _off, _Potter! What are you, gay?" Dean pushed Harry's hand away violently. 

Harry went an even deeper shade of crimson and looked at his placemat as the table erupted with laughter.

This time, Hermione picked up her spoon and hit her glass so that it made a tinging sound. 

Harry swallowed and said,

"Blaise Zabini is a cock sucking motherfucker."

"Hey, what was that? Shut up, Potter!" Blaise couldn't help noticing that Hermione was trying very hard not to have hysterics.

Now everyone was looking at Harry in bewilderment. _Was Potter drunk on his own celebrity? Who did he think he was, insulting someone like Blaise? _

"Are you alright, **_Harry_**?" said Hermione pointedly. Harry mooed and kicked Blaise in the shin.

"Fuck you, man!" Blaise said angrily, "You kick like a girl, **Harry**."

"Baa!" Harry kicked Blaise again. 

"What are you fucking _doing_? Don't you-"

****

Ting! Hermione hit her glass again.

Harry quailed. She hit her glass again, harder, and stared at him intently. He cracked. 

"Hannah Abbot has lovely firm round breasts."

More laughter of the raucous variety. 

****

Cough

This time Dean hit Harry on the shoulder before he'd even managed to _touch _his leg. "Fuck OFF, Potter!"

"Jesus, what's up with you, **Harry**?" asked Draco.

Once again Harry made an animal sound (this time he clucked) and kicked Blaise.

"Look, man, you are _really _fucking me off right now," said an incensed Blaise. This time he kicked Harry back, and as he was wearing steel toed dragon hide boots it must have hurt considerably. Harry whimpered and clutched his kneecap. 

****

Ting!

"Last time I saw McGonagall, I got a massive hard-on," said Harry, sadly.

"EEEEW, **_HARRY!_" **said Hermione. 

"Neeeigh!" Kick. This time Blaise threw a trifle into Harry's face. 

****

Ting!

"Gosh, Pansy, I'd really like to suck your nipples." 

This time it was Draco who hit Harry. "Don't let me _ever _hear you talking that way about Pansy again," he said sharply, stuffing a cream cake down Harry's back. 

****

Ting!

"Last night I let Hedwig bite my balls," Harry muttered disconsolately. 

****

Ting!

"Ron has a huge hairy penis."

Ron looked flattered. 

****

Cough Ting _Harry!_

This time Harry grabbed Dean's crotch instead of his leg, said "When I'm alone I like to wear women's clothing," impersonated a seal and kicked Blaise very, very hard. 

This time he got a glass of punch in his face, a swiss roll over the head and a bowl of hot soup in his lap. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and began to sob. 

****

Ting!

"Last week I pooed my pants just to see what it felt like." The tears were falling freely now. 

****

Ting Cough _Harry! _Cough _Harry! _Ting Ting Cough

"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!" Yelled Harry, his voice cracking. "AT DRACO'S PARTY I GOT VERY DRUNK AND I SHAGGED GINNY WEASLEY, OKAY?" 

Silence. 

All eyes shifted from Harry to Ginny. The pretty redhead was absolutely mortified and buried her face in her arms to temporarily hide the shame. 

Hermione looked horrified that her plan had backfired, but her expression was nothing compared to Cho's. The wronged Ravenclaw stood up.

"Harry Potter, you cheating bastard!" She was livid. "I can't believe I went away for _one week_ and you ended up fucking some sleazy whore! Sorry, Ginny."

"No, that's fair," the redhead replied good-naturedly. "Oh, and you can hardly say it was a 'fuck'. More of an inexpert fumble, if you ask me."

Harry burst into tears for a second time. 

"That's it," said Cho decisively. "We're _over. _You are officially dumped."

This speech was rewarded with heartfelt applause from all those present. Cho smiled graciously and resumed her seat while Harry decided that now was probably the time to leave. 

*

The day of the match dawned bright and clear. Everyone awoke very early, and almost everyone was busy with last minute preparations for something. 

Lee had closed his betting racket the night before and was counting up his money, already planning how to reinvest his cut of the profits. He had decided to leave the fate of the match resting in the hands of his two employees. 

Blaise and Hermione both knew they were not out of the woods yet - there was a lot of work to be done and they both looked a little pale and tense, even if Blaise did grin broadly and unashamedly every time Cho or Katie hurried past.

"I take it _somebody _had a good night last night?" said Hermione dryly after he had done this for the fifth time. 

"Yeah, you might say that," Blaise replied, resting his arm casually around her shoulder as they walked. "You know, I'm going to find it hard to repay you for that one."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something," she replied deviously.

* 

The Cheerleader uniforms (complete with personalised socks) arrived by owl at half past nine that morning. They were received with great excitement and even Angelina had to concede that they were very, very well designed. Flattering and also fairly revealing, they were rich purple in colour with gold lettering and a deep pink trim. The socks matched the trimming and there were also barrettes so even the hair would be co-ordinated. Hermione didn't like to think how much they must have cost. She'd ordered them on credit and if the unthinkable happened she would never be able to pay for them. 

It fell to Angelina to tell McGonagall that the entire Hogwarts squad would have to be replaced with the reserves. When Minerva had been revived with the aid of smelling salts, the hapless reserve squad were informed of the change of plans and instructed to get the school team kit on immediately.

The Hogwarts reserve team were in the most part a luckless bunch. Almost everyone who had tried out for the school team at the beginning of term had given up with good grace when they realised that they would never intrude into the hallowed ranks of the 'magnificent seven.' But some people just didn't want to give up… and these people had signed up to join the reserve team on the offchance that Harry might die or that Alicia might chuck in the Quidditch and become a model instead. Until now nothing remotely resembling these situations had happened, so they had never been given the chance to play. This match would be their debut. 

Draco was delighted to receive the news that he would be playing against such a good side as Beauxbatons, and he had always really _wanted_ to represent the school. It wasn't that he was a bad player – it was just that there wasn't room for two seekers on a team, and his closest rival had been Harry Potter, God's gift to Quidditch. He was less delighted to find out that Harry Potter, God's gift to Quidditch would _also _be playing and that he, Malfoy, would only be a humble Chaser. 

Draco was joined by Seamus and Neville, Hannah and Susan were appointed as Beaters, and Terry Boot (or 'Mad Dog Tez' as he preferred to be known) was in goal. 

So it was that in the final of the 56th International Schools Quidditch Cup, Hogwarts School was represented by "Boot! Bones! Abbot! Longbottom! Finnegan! Malfoy! aaaaaand… Potttaaaaaaah!"

The Beauxbatons team were a far more formidable crew. Tall, lean and athletic, they swooped and arced across the pitch with precision and accuracy as Lee stutteringly introduced them. This time he had taken the precaution of using a _decent _pen on a _proper _bit of paper, which didn't do him much good considering that when he whipped it out of his pocket to read from it, a freak breeze snatched it from his hands and blew it away. 

__

Bollocks. Lee didn't know much French, but he decided to put his limited knowledge to use. 

"I give you… er…La Table! Fromage! Oo-ay la twalettes! Bonjore! Merd! whoops…I mean, er…la Cyclisme! Fattygay! aaaannnd… Voolay vous cooshay aveck moire say swoire!"

Looking at the pitch he realised that he had neglected to mention the names of the only two players he _did _recognise – the Delacours. 

"May I take this opportunity to apologise to the shagtastic babes whose names I forgot… the fit blonde ones are of course the lovely DELACOUR SISTERS! The tall one with the legs up to 'er armpits is Fleur and the little one with, er…no tits is 'er younger sister Gabrielle!"

Despite Lee's introduction, wild and enthusiastic applause greeted the two star players. 

Fleur and Gabrielle both waved and smiled to the crowd because luckily they didn't understand any of Lee's slang-ridden English and his French was so badly pronounced they only caught one bit about cheese and tables. 

One shrill whistle from Madam Hooch and the match was underway. 

Down on the ground, the Cheerleaders were preparing for their moment of fame. Their new uniforms looked great and their routines were well practised and polished. 

They had a hard task ahead of them in winning over the crowd's support... half the people watching were supporting Beauxbatons and the other half were bitterly disappointed that the team they had put their money on had changed rather drastically at the last minute. 

When Hermione ran onto the sidelines followed by her team she felt very grateful that their new uniforms showed a bit of flesh – without this pleasant distraction she doubted they'd have got far without being booed off of the pitch. But… there was a lot to be said for having a squad made up of the prettiest and most popular girls in the school. Most of Hogwarts' male population already looked as though they'd come round to the idea of supporting the cheerleaders rather than the actual school team, who were looking very unimpressive. 

Fifty feet above, Beauxbatons were wiping the floor with the Hogwarts reserves. The French chasers were not as good as Hogwarts' ones would have been, but they were good enough to put several points onto the scoreboard in only the first few minutes. 

As a goalkeeper, 'Tez' certainly had determination, often going far beyond the call of duty to express his rage when he let in a goal. This sometimes meant just a little display of annoyance, such as elbowing the offending chaser in the head, but managed to escalate to more impressive acts such as attempting to tie 'Oo-ay la twalettes' to the goalpost and whack a series of bludgers at his face. 

Harry was facing problems of his own in the form of Gabrielle Delacour. _She really was beautiful_, he noticed, now he was close enough to see her face properly, _and Lee hadn't been quite right when he said she had no tits…_

She was younger than him by two years but she didn't look it. She was fairly tall for her age, with the same sheet of long, white blonde hair as her sister. For Quidditch purposes this was tucked behind her head in a neat bun. Her eyes were a piercing blue in colour and her skin was perfect… but that wasn't what he was meant to be concentrating on. 

She had speed and agility as well as skill and she matched Harry easily in originality of manoeuvres. Every time his resolve, determination and quality of play started to improve above hers, she would disarm him completely with a dazzling smile or a wink as she swished past him. This simple tactic would reduce his legs to jelly and make his head fill with pleasant imagery that refused to go away. _She must really like him! _He felt another jolt of excitement as he wondered what would happen after the match. _Did she want him? Was she telling him something? _He hoped so. If she really did fancy him then he could forget about Cho and all the pain his relationship with her had caused. He could start afresh… show everyone that Harry Potter _was _capable of getting – and this time keeping – a girlfriend. 

These thoughts were rudely interrupted when a bludger went whizzing past his head with alarming proximity. He whirled around angrily to find out who was responsible and found Tez grinning at him inanely. 

"Soz, mate!" The keeper yelled, "I thought it'd be funny."

"Yeah, well…" Harry eyed Terry's bulging arm muscles warily, "Just… don't, okay?"

Tez's shock tactics were actually working fairly well. The Beauxbatons chasers were so fearful of the revenge he would exact if they scored that for a while they kept clear of the goal area entirely, choosing to focus on defense rather than attack. 

The Hogwarts chasers' extra practise during countless lunchtimes had certainly paid off. Although they lacked the inherent intuition that Alicia, Angelina and Katie had been blessed with, through constant practise they had learned to read each other's signals fairly well. Draco's speed and impressive degree of skill coupled with Neville's reliability and Seamus'(… well actually, they usually tried to _avoid_ passing to Seamus) meant that they put away a good few goals even with the Beauxbatons chasers' extra defensive capabilities. 

The scores were becoming worryingly even. Hermione had expected this to be a walkover match in which Beauxbatons would achieve an embarrassingly easy victory. However, this was clearly not going to be the case. She hadn't expected the Chasers to be so good! Damn them. It was time to take some action. 

Between cheers, she formed a huddle which excluded Pansy and explained her newest plan. The rest of the squad listened readily and nodded when they fully understood. 

The next time the team attempted the hugely challenging 'double basket toss,' Pansy was hurled into the air just as they had discussed. However, instead of catching her just as they had always did in rehearsals, a rather unconvincing cry of,

"Look, there's Travis, the new Calvin Klein underwear model!" from Hermione meant that the whole of the rest of the team wheeled around and squealed… at nothing. 

"Oops… evidently _not_," she said nonchalantly as Pansy crashed to the ground in a tangled heap of little limbs behind them. "Must have just been Hagrid. My mistake."

Cruel as it may have been, the plan had its effect. Up in the air, a horrified Draco watched as his little princess was dropped onto the grass in a most painful looking manner. He immediately called for 'time out' and hurtled to the ground to minister to his most perfect angel. 

Pansy was quite all right, though severely annoyed and very, very tearful. 

Hermione muttered a hasty apology and sent her to Alicia for a plaster, intercepting Draco before he had the chance to get to Pansy. 

"Look, I'm sorry about her, but I have a more important reason for bringing you down here."

Draco was in a huff at having his Quidditch glory interrupted for no apparent purpose. He decided to give her the silent treatment. 

"Don't sulk, it gives you wrinkles," Hermione reprimanded, pressing on regardless. He rearranged his face into an expression less damaging to his complexion and listened. 

"I need you to stop playing so well," she said, flatly. 

"What? Why?"

"I can't explain it now… no time. But if it helps, Blaise is in on this. I know you trust him even if you don't trust me."

This was true – they were best friends. 

"Look, Hogwarts have _got _to lose or Lee, Blaise and I are stuck in it right up to our necks," she pleaded. "And Parvati and her helpless, underprivileged little baby are out on the streets!"

"But I've got 400 galleons on Hogwarts to win," he moaned, his expression pained. 

Hermione looked at him imploringly. 

"Don't you want to give your money to a single mother?"

"No."

"Wrinkles, Draco. Remember the wrinkles."

"But I don't _want_ to. And if I know Hermione Granger, the only reason _you're_ doing this is because you want to fuck Blaise and make a tidy share of my 400G."

In any other situation, Hermione would have pointed out that a) she was easily capable of getting Blaise into bed _without_ joining Lee's crackpot moneymaking scheme and b) 400 galleons was probably less than Draco spent on his last shopping trip… 

Instead, her lip quivered endearingly and she let her eyes fill with tears that were only half fake. 

"How can you say that, Draco? I thought you had a heart, but…"

He looked at her and tried to keep his expression neutral. 

"If you think you can win me over with that cute little girlie act, then… then… oh, fuck it, Hermione, I'm a complete pushover when it comes to you. What do you want me to do? I'll go along with it… just promise you won't drop Pansy again, will you? She's very delicate."

"Wheeeee! Look at me, Draco, I'm a jumping star!" Pansy was clearly all better. "Alicia gave me a Barbie plaster, look!" She showed him her knee which now had a small pink adhesive square on it. 

"It's lovely, Pansy. Now, are you going to be alright?"

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about _me, _Draco. Angelina gave me a lollypop for being a very brave little girl. Hermione, can you throw me again? It was fun!" With this, she skipped away holding Alicia's hand. 

Hermione and Draco exchanged looks. 

"Just distract the other Hogwarts players," Hermione instructed. "You should be able to bribe Hannah with food… tell Susan that S Club 7 are visiting Hogwarts and she has to leave now if she wants to meet her favourite band… seduce Neville…" she grinned. "Just use your famous initiative."

"You know I'd do anything for you," he told her, "…except seduce Neville. I'll find a way around that one if you don't mind." He shouldered his broom and began to leave – time out was nearly up. 

"I don't mind _what_ you do as long as you lose. I'll do what I can from down here. Oh, and…" she called to his retreating back, "I promise to spend my cut of your 400 galleons on you!"

Regardless of the fact that the cheerleading team were waiting impatiently for their captain, and that Lee was hollering at Draco to 'get his arse back onto the fahking pitch and stop chattin' up girls', nothing could have prevented him from running back to where Hermione was waiting and pulling her into his arms. 

*

While all of this excitement was going on, there were two people who were unfortunately missing the action. Ron and Viktor Krum, both wheelchair-bound, were being detained in the hospital wing by Madam Pomfrey, who disapproved of Quidditch intensely. 

Poor Viktor had been left facing a blank wall for four days, and as his limbs were all in plaster, he was unable to move himself so that he was looking at something more interesting. He also had the company of Ronald Weasley to contend with. After Ron had overcome his initial shyness in the presence of his idol, he had lost no time in telling the Bulgarian superstar all about himself. 

"Did I tell you about the time I encountered a _Marmite flavour _Bertie Bott's bean?" he asked, brightly. 

"Ja," replied Viktor, dully. This did not deter Ron from repeating the exciting tale. 

"Twas a fine, sunny day... the season of Spring had just come into bloom, and... 

*

Draco needn't have worried about bribing Hannah with food. During time out she had discovered the refreshments tent and eaten all of the after-match feast. This was a fairly impressive feat as she'd only had ten minutes to eat fourteen 3-course meals, but... she _was _Hannah Abbot. The subsequent bloatedness and increase in weight meant that she could hardly mount her broom, and when she finally had it wedged between her barrel-like thighs the rickety old Cleansweep 5 could only move at the rate of a Special Olympic Hurdler. Despite this limitation she insisted that as she 'could still move her eyes' she should be allowed to play and that no substitution could be made. 

Susan Bones was no harder to dispose of. One passing mention of Jon, Tina, Bradley, Hannah, Rachel, Paul and Jo being on the school premises and the bony Ravenclaw abandoned her broom immediately in search of her favourite pop stars. Clutching her autograph book firmly in her hand, she disappeared into the crowd. 

This meant that when the Hogwarts team took to the skies again they only had 5 players capable of movement. Despite this, Tez was still doing a good job in goal and he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. Nobody had ever been sent off in a Quidditch match before, but then... nobody had ever stabbed an opposing player with a trowel before, either.

While Draco was still very reluctant to seduce Neville _himself, _he was sure that a similar tactic could be employed to great effect. The next time the blond chaser got near enough to his team-mate, he stage-whispered confidentially,

"Hey, Nev... I think Oo-ay la twalettes fancies you!"

"Really?" said the pudgy boy excitedly. "He _is _very good looking..."

"Oh, _totally_," confirmed Draco, "See the way he keeps whacking bludgers right at your face? It's always a sure sign."

With one chaser (Seamus) being totally incompetent as it was, and another one mooning over his Foreign fancy, the only useful players left were Draco, Harry and Tez. Draco had been watching Gabrielle closely every time he had a spare few seconds, and he was sure she was more than a match for Harry. But... amazingly, the team scores were still too even to ensure a Beauxbatons victory. If Harry caught the snitch now, Hogwarts would win. He hoped fervently that down on the ground, Hermione had something good up her sleeves. 

*

The girl in question was watching the skies intently as she high-kicked and yelled semi-enthusiastically. The rest of the girls were doing a fantastic job, and the audience were responding very positively. It seemed they had finally succeeded in winning over the crowd's support, even if it had taken some extremely impressive moves to do so. 

Nobody except Draco had had more than 15 Galleons on the outcome of the match, and as Tez had ensured singlehandedly that the final had been one of the most exciting games ever played at Hogwarts, nobody seemed to mind that the A-team had quit anymore. 

Hermione decided that as the match could be over at any moment, it was time for their piece de resistance - the pyramid. 

"Okay, girls, let's show them what we've got!" she yelled. "I want Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Padma and Mandy on the bottom row..." 

The girls obliged willingly. "Now, Cho, Lavender, No-knickers-girl and me will get on top..."

They did so. 

"Chiyo and Pansy, you next!"

The small martial arts fanatic hopped onto Hermione's shoulders, but Pansy was looking _severely _mutinous. 

"I WANT TO GO ON THE TOP!" She yelled from way down on the ground. 

"YOU CAN'T!" Hermione yelled back. "GINNY'S DOING IT!"

Pansy ran over and kicked Angelina in the shin. The pyramid wobbled dangerously.

"Ow!" said Angelina, struggling to keep Lavender balanced. 

"WHAT ARE YOU _DOING_?" Hermione called down to her. 

"IF YOU DON'T LET ME BE AT THE TOP THEN I'LL KNOCK YOUR WHOLE STUPID PYRAMID DOWN!"

"TRY IT AND I'LL KICK YOU OFF THE TEAM," threatened Hermione.

Pansy considered this and ceased her attempts to bite Alicia's knee. 

"Don't worry, Hermione!" shouted Ginny, who was still on the ground. "I'm sure me and Pansy can sort this out rationally and sensibly." With this she pulled Pansy into a violent headlock and rubbed her knuckles forcefully on the blonde girl's skull. 

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, OW!" Squealed Pansy. "Get off me, you ginger minger!"

"Fuck you, gutterslut." 

"You can't go at the top. You're too _fat._"

Ginny stamped on Pansy's toe.

"That was a really big lettuce leaf you had for lunch, Pansy. Are you sure you don't need to go and _throw it up_?"

"Ooooh, bitchy. You know, you really shouldn't introduce so much anger into the team," Pansy said morally. 

"You'd better shut up before I introduce my foot into your arse." 

"You're a cow." Pansy grabbed Ginny's hair and pulled with all of her puny might. 

"I'm sorry, did somebody try to insult me just then? Only...I thought I felt a pathetic, useless little gust of air go past me as it vanished into nothing."

"That must have just been you, farting in your own face," said Pansy, maturely. 

"Uh, Pansy?" said Alicia, who was feeling the strain of having the weight of two healthy girls on top of her, "You look _very _sexy in that tiny little skirt of yours. Bear in mind that if you want to climb all the way up to the top, I might not be able to stop myself trying to finger you."

Hermione looked at Alicia gratefully. Alicia's well chosen, though untrue words had their effect. Pansy looked absolutely disgusted. 

"EEEEUUUURGH!"

"I don't mind," said Ginny liberally, quickly hopping up over Alicia's shoulders, getting a leg-up from Hermione and reaching her rightful place at the top of the splendid pyramid. 

They received a huge round of applause and some very admiring looks as the four-storey construction was completed, but Pansy was not quite beaten yet. 

"EVERYONE KNOWS YOU'RE ONLY DOING THIS BECAUSE YOU FANCY DEAN!" she screamed. 

Ginny did not justify this accusation with a reply. Instead, she jumped off of Chiyo's shoulders and plummeted 15 feet right onto Pansy who was still standing below. 

They fell to the ground heavily and began tearing, biting and kicking each other in earnest. 

*

Susan had taken off her thick spectacles before she ventured onto the Quidditch pitch as she hadn't wanted them to get broken. Now, however, she felt they would have been rather useful. Finding the members of her beloved pop group was proving to be rather difficult, as her field of vision only extended to about a yard in front of her.

Despite this hindrance, she was doing rather well in her own opinion. She had already collected " Tina's " signature from a rather bewildered Hagrid and was hoping to get some others. She may not have been so confident if she had known that 'Bradley' was in fact a small Chaffinch and the band member she had suspected to be Hannah was in reality the Whomping Willow. 

* 

While all this was happening, some further developments had occurred in the match.

Neville had mysteriously absconded with Oo-ay la twallettes, leaving Draco and Seamus to chase alone. 

Tez had finally retired with rather bad grace after knocking _himself _unconscious, and was now sipping some pumpkin juice through a straw while watching from the sidelines and making violent threats at the opposing team. He was very proud of the fact that he had broken nearly all of the 700 rules, and would have achieved the full set had there been any sheep available and a Tomahawk had been to hand. 

Beauxbatons were really taking the lead now - the scores stood at 80 - 230 which meant that a French victory was almost assured. 

Harry was chasing Gabrielle closely, adopting an old tactic of Cho's and following her every move rather than choosing to look for the snitch himself. He knew that as soon as she sighted it and made her move, his superior broom would ensure he got there first. He needed a capture soon - if Beauxbatons scored one more time, even the extra 150 points awarded at the end of the match wouldn't be enough for Hogwarts to win. 

But what was this? Gabrielle had suddenly taken off like a bullet and was speeding across the pitch towards a tiny glint of gold. Harry was on her tail at once, urging the Firebolt forwards as fast as it would go. 

In the commentary box, Lee was almost hysterical with apprehension and excitement.

"MY GOD, JUST LOOK AT THEM GO! A HOGWARTS CAPTURE MEANS A DRAW AND A REMATCH BUT IF GABY GETS THERE FIRST THE FRENCHIES TAKE THE TROPHY!"

Meanwhile, unnoticed by anyone, Seamus had possession of the Quaffle for the first time in the entire match, and with a cry of 'Begorrah!' he was making his way towards the golden hoops of the scoring area. If he could only score, then Hogwarts would certainly win! He'd be a hero! There was no doubt that Harry would reach the Snitch first - you couldn't beat a Firebolt. If he, Seamus, could lower the difference in scores by just 10 points, victory was theirs! He was 100 feet away... 90...

*

Hermione was watching Seamus like a hawk. She had to get the timing just right or... she shuddered. It didn't even bear thinking about. The crowd were all on their feet, screaming and yelling like maniacs. All this was happening in a matter of seconds.

NOW!

"PLAN 'B'!" She screamed. The rest of the Cheerleaders aligned themselves as they had arranged and Hermione gave the signal to Lee, praying he'd pick up on it in all the excitement. He did. 

"WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT?!" He yelled, right on cue. "SOME GORGEOUS BABES ARE FLASHIN' THEIR TITS!" 

"Now, girls!" she commanded. On her orders, 11 of Hogwarts' finest lifted their tops and bared all to the world. No-knickers-girl, the 12th, had heard the orders wrong and was mooning everyone delightedly. 

For a split second, _everybody _stared. Not even Quidditch was better than the chance to see some tits. 

Seamus had only been a few feet from glory when it happened. As soon as he sighted the marvellous array of bosoms, he dropped the Quaffle in surprise and stared for a moment. But... he was still travelling at 120 m.p.h! He realised there was no way he could avoid what was going to be the most painful experience of his life. He smashed into the central goalpost with his legs wide open and slid an excruciating 50 feet down to the ground. 

Harry couldn't help it... he was only human, after all. When else would he get such a chance again? And though he knew it wasn't wise, he spent a few seconds just ogling. 

These few seconds were easily enough for Gabrielle to draw level. As one with Veela blood, she was immune to such distractions and had a fierce level of concentration which was certainly an advantage to her now. 

The streak of blue which whipped past Harry's ear brought him sharply back to reality. 

He began to chase her again but those precious seconds had given her too great an advantage... hadn't they? He put in one last burst of effort... he was drawing level! Yes! Yes!...Yes!.......................................... No!

An arm reached out and grabbed his sleeve, hard. He swung round, out of control. 

Gabrielle's lips touched his in a blissful moment of fire and passion which took away his breath and made him shiver with lust. 

Then she broke away and let go of his arm, her face joyful and her spare hand clenched tightly around the little golden ball.

"OUI!" She cried ecstatically. "Beauxbatons sont la mieux!"

*

It would be impossible to fully describe the happiness which this fleeting moment caused for all those who had brought it about. Lee, Hermione, Blaise, Draco, Alicia, Angelina, Katie, Cho, Pansy, Ginny, Chiyo, No-knickers-girl, Padma, Lavender and Mandy all leapt into the air and screamed, kissed, hugged and generally celebrated in the appropriate manner. Lee kissed Hermione who kissed Blaise, who in the height of the confusion kissed Lee. All of them had a happy glow inside which told them they had just become very, very rich. 

Ginny leapt into Dean's arms and kissed him passionately.

"Little slut," said Pansy affectionately as she watched them. Draco swooped down and grabbed Pansy by the waist, hoisting her onto his broom and giving her a lap of honour around the pitch before setting her down again and disappearing off to celebrate further. 

Fleur and Gabrielle were embracing, tears of happiness gracing their cheeks as they jointly accepted the huge silver trophy. 

After a lot more of the same, the crowds in the stands finally began to disperse. As the post-match feast had been cancelled, everyone was keen to get to the parties which would doubtless be happening in every common room until the early hours of the morning. 

*

As much as Harry had wanted to win, he was finding it hard to feel in any way sad. _Gabrielle liked him! She had kissed him and it had felt wonderful! _He decided he should speak to her, but when he scanned the pitch he couldn't see her. 

"Fleur? Have you seen Gabrielle?"

The tall blonde turned around from where her and Alicia had just begun a small celebration of their own and looked at him like he was a stain on an Evisu T-shirt.

"Oh, eet is you, ees eet? Gabrielle said she would be waiting for a boy in the changing rooms eef 'e asked for her."

Full of excitement, Harry scurried off to find the girl of his dreams. He was desperate to feel her touch again, to feel that fire which had seared his very heart. 

When he reached the changing rooms there was warm steam issuing forth from behind the door. _She must be using the showers! _

Harry felt a small stirring in the region of his crotch. He could hear her voice, calling to him...

He pushed open the door. Now he was _in _the room, he realised he could hear _two _voices, not just one. Sickened, he listened silently. 

"...and so I 'ad no choice but to keeess him. C'etait tres horrible, naturellement..."

"Poor you... I hope I'm more to your liking?"

"Oh, oui... your breath does not steeenk like his... you taste... delicieux!"

From the sounds of things, she proceeded to taste him some more. 

Harry was horrified. She _didn't _like him after all! He'd been deluding himself. The only reason she'd flirted with him was to win the game. Oh, what a cruel temptress!

He was sure he recognised the other voice, but he had to know for sure... he rounded the corner which led to the washing area and _screamed. _

A slippery, foam covered entanglement of lightly tanned bare skin and wet blonde hair looked to be having a _lot_ of fun up against the wall of the communal showers. 

Draco and Gabrielle made no attempt to disentangle themselves from each other and barely even looked at Harry. 

"Oh...Go away, will you Potter?" Draco managed in between moans of pleasure.

Harry wasn't surprised Malfoy was enjoying himself. Gabrielle was pressing the fabulous front of her naked body against him and twisting his hair around her fingers playfully in between kisses as they stood under the powerful jets of hot water.

"Ooh la la, Gabrielle!" The blond boy giggled as she pinched his behind, hard.

"Potter, are you _still_ here? Please just take a hint and fuck off..." 

Harry fucked off. 

*

Before the end of the night, just one small loose end remained to be tied up. The Gryffindor common room had been chosen as the main venue for the post-match celebrations, and the area was packed with students. Loud music was belting out from somewhere and the alcoholic beverages were flowing freely. 

"Hermione?" said Angelina, a faintly malevolent glint in her eye. "I have one Mr. Ronald Weasley here who is owed a full minute of kissing. With tongues, if I remember rightly. So... is he going to get it?"

Hermione, who was in the middle of a very entertaining drinking game with Lee which involved removing articles of clothing, looked up in horror. 

"Can't you give me a minute?" she asked. 

"No," said Angelina.

"But Lee's nearly _naked_," whined a still-fully-clothed Hermi. "I want those pants _off_!" 

"It can wait," the black girl insisted. "You don't want to keep Ronnikins waiting, now do you?"

The wheelchaired Ron was almost peeing himself with anticipation. He was wearing an unflattering brown knitted jumper and his plaster cast (which read "_Please _get better soon" followed by Viktor Krum's signature) was partly hidden by some very baggy orange shorts. His plastic-y sandals had made a comeback, and with his Chudley Cannons hat clashing with his hair, he did _not _look appealing. 

Perhaps if Hermione had consumed a little more alcohol she would have done it right there and then. But... she was definitely still much too sober. And idea struck her. 

"Oh, Blai-sie?" she called affectionately. "Where are you?"

She soon found him sprawled on one of the sofas with Katie Bell on top of him. They were _very _involved in each other and he didn't look happy at the interruption. Still, he consented to come and talk to her in private. 

"Blaise, do you remember that teeny, weenie little favour I did for you yesterday?" she asked, fishing out a handkerchief and attempting to remove some lipstick stains from his ear. "You know, that one where I hooked you up with _two _of the hottest girls in the school?"

"Yeah," he said dreamily. "I totally owe you. Katie's hardly been out of my pants since."

"I heard that!" interjected the accused girl from the sofa where she was trying to re-hook her bra. 

"Well, it's _true,_" he said, defensively. 

"Seeing as you 'totally owe me,' how about you help me out... now?"

"Do I _have _to?" he asked, looking longingly at Katie. Her hair was very tousled and she too had lipstick all over her face. 

"Yes."

After much grumbling on his part, she finally coerced him to do her bidding. 

After five minutes in the boys' dorm, Hermione was safely concealed under Harry's cloak and Blaise had undergone a dramatic (though temporary) transformation. 

"Wow..." said Hermione in wonder as she looked at him. "Am I _really _that hot?!"

"You'd better believe it," he grinned. He was having far too much fun fiddling with parts of her anatomy that he should definitely _not_ be touching. 

"Blaise, would you get _off _my body?"

"It's mine for now," he said. "Hey... my voice sounds like yours!"

"Duh. You _are _me. Which does not give you the right to touch my nipples."

He looked crestfallen. 

"If you want to feel my body again, then I am definitely going to be in possession of it," she said, firmly. This seemed to cheer him up. 

"How long will this stuff last?" he asked. 

"Uh... about... an hour? Now, put some clothes on and... go kiss Ron."

Blaise paled. Hermione grinned. "You'll be fine. Just don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

*

Much to the amusement of all who saw the event, somebody who to all intents and purposes _was _Hermione kissed Ron full on the mouth for almost one whole minute... with tongues. 

Much to the amusement of Hermione, the potion she'd given Blaise wore off after just fifty nine seconds, exactly as she'd planned. After an undignified transformation, he was left standing in the middle of the common room, still locking lips with Ron, wearing some very girlie clothes which were several sizes too small especially in the panty department. 

The fact that Hermi had cheated her way out of yet another scheme didn't seem to bother Angelina - she and everyone else had had the pleasure of watching Hermione _and _Blaise kiss Ron, and so the fact that Hermione hadn't actually _done _it was of no consequence. 

If Blaise had been a different person, he might have been embarrassed, but he wasn't ... he was just, well... Blaise. So naturally, he milked the attention for all it was worth and spent the rest of the evening proceeding to 'prove' his straightness by getting off with as many females as would have him. 

And as for Ron? Well, Blaise had _looked _like Hermione, and _felt _like he assumed Hermione would feel, and _tasted _like he'd hoped she would taste... and he _was _a very good kisser... so the ginger boy was more than happy at the way things had turned out. 

Draco and Gabrielle arrived at the common room about an hour later, lapping up the public interest they aroused as they did so. Alicia had put Pansy to bed early, anxious to prevent an ugly confrontational scene from unfolding. The minuscule blonde had not objected to Alicia's offer of a bedtime story, as she was exhausted after the day's events. 

However, the 'all you can read special' turned out to be a mistake on Ally's part, and she only escaped giving a fifth rendition of 'Percy the Pimply Pixie down in Dingly Dell' by sedating Pansy's hot chocolate. 

Harry had finally been convinced by Ron to leave his dormitory where he had been sobbing quietly for ages, so even he didn't miss out. So what if he had to hang around with first years? At least a few of them thought he was a bit cool. 

Even Hannah Abbot and her trusty sidekick were having a good time. 

Susan was beaming because Jo (a.k.a Dean) had signed her autograph book. It was probably lucky that she still couldn't find her glasses, as she would have been disappointed to note what her favourite band member had written. 

Hannah was still mildly glazed and euphoric from her food binge earlier. She wasn't even indignant that a tittering Blaise had given her a chauvinistic slap on the rump and commented that she was a "stout, healthy piece of ass."

*

"So... you're giving how much money to Parvati?"

"About 5000 galleons," said Lee. "That'll be enough to see her through the last three years of school and pay for everything Ranjit will need."

"That's great!" Hermione said, happily. "I'm just _so _pleased this all worked out."

Padma came over to the two friends and joined them.

"Thankyou so much for everything you've done," she said warmly. "I don't know how we can ever repay you."

"Oh, don't worry," said Hermione, grinning. "I made a fortune... I've got enough to pay for the cheerleading outfits in full, I'm going on one _hell_ of a shopping trip this weekend and I'll still have about 5500 galleons in the bank. That's enoughreward for me."

"As long as you're sure..."

"We're sure," Lee and Hermione reassured her together. Padma smiled gratefully and left. 

Hermione handed Lee his boxer shorts. He was still butt-naked after losing their drinking game miserably.

"You'll probably want to put these back on now."

Lee did so, and soon wandered off after being distracted by a rapidly increasing circle of people playing a game involving dice, chocolate and an assortment of fancy-dress clothes. 

Hermione was left alone for a moment. Their plan had been a huge success... everyone _loved _the cheerleading team... Parvati was saved... she'd got an absolute _ton_ of money to spend. After the flashing incident, she wasn't sure _where _her campaign for Head Girl stood with McGonagall. She was sure her straight-laced teacher hadn't been too impressed. 

But... never mind that now - it was great to be in a party atmosphere again.

__

Katie's knickers on the chandelier... Harry, in the corner, playing 'Paper, Scissors, Stone' with Susan Bones... Blaise enthusiastically attempting to organise a 'guess whose bottom is sticking through the curtain' game... Tez breaking Seamus' wrist in an arm-wrestle... Hogwarts' second best band playing deafeningly loudly while Tequila Slammers were served at midnight.

She was the star of the moment - she had her pick of people to talk to and she knew she could have almost any guy... or girl... in the room. She could jump onto a table and dance, or start a conga line, or take all her clothes off and sing 'I will Survive' in French while waving her underwear around. 

She fully intended to do all of these things, possibly more than once. Pulling her hair free from its ponytail and removing her shoes, Hermione went looking for some fun. 

*

End of Part Six

A/N: 

· Extra points to any kind reviewer who can tell us the American definition of 'skank/skanky'. In English Slang it means rubbish, poor, bad quality, or anything Ron wears, says or does.

· We are considering making a glossary to accompany this story so that readers not familiar with our use of language can find find definitions of our rather English vocabulary. If you don't understand what the hell we (or Lee) are on about, please tell us so in your lovely reviews so that we can help you out. K? 

· After reviewing earlier parts of this story, we have decided that they do not adequately reflect a)the characters' personalities b)the time and effort we put into episode 6 and c)our ability as writers. When Aurora and Drosera have time, they will overhaul the whole lot and re-issue it so that the whole story is of equal quality and does not contain scenes like the one with Crabbe and Goyle in turbans

or lines like "Somehow, he found himself wanting to shag Hermione less… "

__

I mean... would anyone who actually knew her _ever _say that? Ha ha. 

Thankyou for bearing with us and we hope you enjoyed this part. Stay tuned for part seven... and start thinking 'Talent Show'. We love you, readers. ^_~ A & D

__


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